Warrior
by Queen of the Red Skittle
Summary: A Wraith takes in an orphaned child after a culling. Nominated in SGA Awards.
1. The Killer

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**A.N—**This is not an Atlantis-team centered fic, but they will make an appearance in later chapters.

**A.N#2**—Chapter 1 edited as of 6/8/10. No reason why as to I felt like it.

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"The Killer"

.s.

The five year old girl ran out of the hide-covered shelter and towards the gritty beach at the bend in the small river. She never looked back, sure without a doubt in her child's mind her home would be there when she returned.

She splashed into the river and gasped at the cold water. But she had lived near cold and near-freezing water her entire young life, and without a reservation more, completely submerged. She stood up spluttering and wiped water from her eyes. Then, with strong strokes, made it to the other side of the river. It was more of a stream, really, and it took several back-and-forth passages before the young child decided she had had enough.

She waded out of the water, skin flushed pink from the chill, and found a seat on the gritty beach. She amused herself with rocks as the warm sun dried out her fair hair and smoothed her goosebumps. She didn't know how long she remained. She had no notion of the time, only realizing she should return after a careless whim struck her.

The girl made her way up the bank and was almost to her lean-to when suddenly the Ring activated. Off-hand curiosity flickered a bit in her, but it quelled easily. They were probably just some traders. She continued on, sure feet picking their way along the dirt path.

She had just arrived to her camp when a high whine registered in her ears. She thought it was just a mosquito at first but looked up when a dark, needle-pointed shape fly by. She looked about in confusion as her calm world suddenly morphed into a screaming, shouting one. The girl was filled with more perplexity than fear as ship after ship appeared through the Ring, their unearthly whine harsh and raucous.

"Quickly, child! Inside!" It was her father, suddenly appearing from within the lean-to. Without waiting another word from the girl he grabbed her and forced her in. Now fear flooded in the child as well as apprehension.

What could make her father, the stout-hearted man who had faced the squealing boar during the midsummer hunt so fearlessly, so afraid?

A sheen of sweat could be seen on the man's face as he kneeled in front of the girl, his hands tight and shaking on her small shoulders. The sounds of screaming and crying resounded outside the flimsy shelter walls. The noise of the flying crafts shrieked their presence.

"Listen to me, child—there is little time. Stay here and do not, under any circumstance, move. Understand, little one? Don't leave the hearth no matter what."

"What's happening, Father?" the child said, staring up at her father's wild eyes. She began tearing.

"Stay here," he said, bending his head forward to touch his forehead with her tiny one. She could feel him trembling. "I will return for you—I promise."

And with that, he rushed out of the tent, leaving the stunned child. She stared uncomprehendingly at the way her father had left. Where was he going? Why did she have to stay? Shaken, but still not quite understanding the cause of all the fear, the girl crouched underneath a root-rack. The noises of peoples' screams were lesser now; fewer and fewer people cried out with fear and panic. Even the buzzing of the ships were less and less, as if they were returning back through the Ring.

After what seemed to be longest eternity, the screaming stopped. Simply . . . stopped, as if there was no one there to voice their terror. Even the buzzing had ceased, though the faint gurgling of the Ring indicated that it was still open. Was it safe to come out now? Where was her father? Just as the girl was beginning to unfold herself from the small space, low hisses and rumbling voices alerted her that all was not abandoned.

Something or someone was out there. Hardly daring to breathe, the girl waited in the lean-to, her heart quickening. There were the sounds of someone removing layers of some sort of cart away. Another moment of silence before the sound of a man's strangled begging and triumphant hissing filled the air. Peeking her head a little the girl saw _something_ holding another figure by its throat. A man. Someone who sounded like her father.

The oppression of the situation was almost too great to bear. As the figure of her father dangled, the other _something_ slammed something on his chest. The crescendo of agony that ripped from the man's lips was nothing the girl had every heard. She slammed her hands over her ears and didn't realize she was screaming herself until the man fell silent.

She stopped, but it was too late. The shriveled husk of a body hit the ground in a near-noiseless thump and the _something _headed towards her tent, its pace slow and predatory. The child froze, unable to move despite the screaming instinct to runrunrun. The _something_ came closer, confident, its hiss-spit growling growing louder.

A shadow fell across her tent, and the girl bolted.

The sunlight blinded her but it didn't matter. She knew where she was going. Legs, thin and knobby with youth, gave her wings as she tore through the forest. Trees whipped past her face and thin laces of blood etched themselves on her tanned skin. She ran faster. Lungs began to burn. Muscles turned into led. Feet became sloppy. The child tripped and fell, hard, over an elm root.

Tears clouded her vision as she dizzily got up on rubbery legs, both knees scraped raw. The sizzling pain made her whimper, but she began to run again, not daring to stop.

A new snarling noise made her freeze. When she looked up, she stared straight in the face of a bristling forest cat. Eyes widening with mounting fear, the girl was frozen as the two-foot high cat approached.

Its green eyes flashed as it pinned its tufted ears back. Its needle-sharp claws dug deep in the rotting wood, a hissing snarl rising in its throat. The entire culling made it anxious and dangerous, and when this little interloper trespassing on its territory it filled it with wrath. Normally non-aggressive, forest cats left the people alone, preferring to hunt small mice and birds undisturbed. But the combined noise and sour-scent of fear from the camp made it hostile.

The cat suddenly lashed out, catching her left cheek. Four deep, parallel marks were etched deeply in the girl's face. She shrieked in pain as the paw raked her.

Just before the cat could strike again, whipped into frenzy by its prey's outcry and scent of blood, a blue blast enveloped it. The cat yowled before it toppled over and hit the ground as if pole-axed. The child whirled in the direction of the blast, baffled and astounded.

Looking shakily around from her vantage point on the ground, the child couldn't see what had saved her. But as she continued to look in one direction, a rustle of sound caused her to whirl around.

He was unbelievably tall to her child's mind, already replacing her father's height. His shoulders were spread over his narrow chest. Covering his entire upper frame was a darkly tanned leather garment with a high neck-covering piece, and a thin black belt looping over his shoulders and under one side. He wore black leather pants and a trench coat-like covering over his lower half. He had long, straight white hair that flowed all the was down to the middle of his midriff, a handsome contrast to the darkness of the being's uniform. But the creature's face told her it was not human. His skin was pale bluish-green with facial slits on both cheeks. He bore no eyebrows. He sported two elegant mustachios on his chin. His pupils were slitted—like a forest cat's—and his irises were a deep green speckled with bits of yellow. In one hand he held a pistol-like device, probably the source of the flash.

The child stared up at the pale face. She didn't get up. She was inert.

The alien cocked his head in a curious posture, eyes hooded and lids half-closed as he continued to exchange gazes with the she-child. She shivered. After a moment he snorted and walked away, back towards the camp.

For a moment, the child did nothing. Her cheek was warm and throbbing. Her knees hurt. Her legs were sore. But with the simple movements of a child, she got up and began to make her way in the same direction of where her strange rescuer went. Suddenly afraid she had lost him, she sped up on already spent legs until she reached the striding figure.

The noise she caused stopped the tall being. It slowly turned around, eyes tilting down upon her. The child stopped as well, looking up at him solemnly. For a long moment alien and human stared each other, more than just their cultures separating the rift between them. Even years later, when the Wraith retold the story of their first encounter to the young girl, she was reluctant to believe she had acted so fearlessly with him.

The _beautifulterriblehandsome_ creature lifted its pistol-thing at her, face and eyes expressionless. The girl didn't move.

With another snort the pale-faced alien turned around and began to walk away. The child began to follow, a fawn after its mother.

The creature whirled around roared straight in her face, sharp teeth inches away from her child's skin, eyes belligerent and terrible and _alien _and nothing like she had ever seen. She had no choice but to back away a few steps, blinking rapidly, her tiny hands clenched at her sides. The roar tapered off and the creature continued to growl menacingly, towering over her, a wolfdemon in her eyes. The child waited for the end, too terrified to close her eyes.

It took a moment for her to realize the creature's growl had ceased to a rumbling. With moistening eyes the girl watched as the beautiful killer knelt on one knee at her level, its abnormal face close to hers. So close was she that she could smell his scent but she couldn't place it. It smelled nothing fetid or repulsing, just a metallic musty smell. Like of cobwebs.

He knelt down on one knee before her, turning his head in a sort of regard and curiosity. Even on his knee he surpassed her height by a large margin. Unexpectedly, he reached over and took her tiny chin between his sharp-clawed fingers, seeming to examine her face. His skin felt just as a human's but colder, despite the summer's heat. The girl continued to stand stock-still, both passive and immovable.

Apparently satisfied with what he saw, the alien snorted to himself. Seemingly coming to a decision, he released her and continued walking, ignoring her as if nothing had ever happened. The child followed, but the demon didn't discourage her.

The two unlikely travelers made their way back to the camp. He turned at looked at her.

_ "Stay."_

The creature spoke as if he had rocks in his mouth; the words were harsh and guttural, nothing like the smoothness of a human throat. But the command had been clear, accent or no.

The girl stayed put. It seemed natural to do as the beautiful demon said.

Grunting, the creature headed towards a group similar of his kind. When they saw him they straightened and ceased milling around. The girl watched, feeling somewhat disconnected from the whole scene. Her cheek hurt and her knees were sizzling, but even that felt numb and far-away. But she stayed where she was told, and would until the creature came back for her and led her to her new life.


	2. What I Shall Call You

**A.N**—Second chapter edited as of 6/9/10. Because I felt like it.

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"What I Shall Call You"

_When you change a form of a thing you change its purpose._

_-Aristotle_

.s.

The young girl came to consciousness slowly, blinking against the darkness. For a moment all she could do was lay there, pleasantly confused as to why it was so dark out and why it felt so cold. Then the events of yesterday crashed down upon her, and she became ramrod straight, eyes wide, skin tingling. She hardly dared to breathe. But the more she lay there, the more she realized she was alone.

With slow movements, the girl child sat up.

The room had a dark blue cast, with strange yellow lights—thin like membrane on dragonfly wings—on one side of the wall. These lights shone over exotic, complex symbols drawn all over the walls. There was a rack of weapons besides the light, and farther along the cobweb-covered wall was a sleeping bed of some kind. The girl herself was on something not unlike a cot. A strange animal skin acted as a blanket, skin-side down, fur-side up. She gave the pelt an experimental stroke. It was softer than anything she had ever touched. The fur was speckled yellow and blue under the overhead membrane lights.

Shivering but growing accustomed to the cold, the girl sat up. The sandy, gravely floor gave minor vibrations, but not enough for her to care. She was bound by neither tether nor string, but she didn't move from what she could only describe as a bed. All the same curiosity burned within her, and she craned her neck looking all around her. She had never seen such a high-vaulted ceiling. And those strange yellow lights? The girl looked around in wonder, her fear vanishing as her child-amazement took hold.

The blended door hissed open. Yellowish light, stronger than those on the ceiling and walls, flooded in as a demon strode in. The door closed and the darkness returned. The child scurried under the blanket and hid under it. When nothing happened, she peeked over the edge. The creature was the same one as in the forest. He was dressed differently—the child didn't know _how,_ but knew. He completely ignored her as she removed his leather gauntlets and thin belt. The child watched with curious eyes, and as the demon kept ignored her, the more she crept from underneath the blanket. By the time the alien was tying back his long white hair, she was near burning with curiosity.

But the girl held her tongue and the demon walked out of the room without another look back.

.s.

The child's concept of the passage of time was lost and everything blended together. She didn't know how long she sat on the cot. Hungry, thirsty, weary, she fell into a thin sleep.

.s.

She awoke to the demon not a feet away, his gentle, cold breath fanning her face. The child remained still, gazing up at the alien, her eyes drinking in his sight. For some reason, she couldn't seem to remember the other figure of her life. All what she could imagine was greenish skin and cat slit eyes. He was so close she could have touched him.

They stared at each other, the young girl and the demon, with equal intensity. He had never seen a human child exploit such boldness and lack of fear in his presence, while she was curious about the colour skin of his face. In her limited experience, she had never seen a face so differently coloured. Impetuously, with the uninhibited reactions of a child, she reached out to tough his face, to see if the skin felt different.

With a hiss the demon leaned away and got up, out of reach of the girl's touch. The child looked on, unperturbed at his reaction. She instead she congratulated herself on a mission success: a demon's face felt the same as a humans, and colour meant little. When she looked up again she realized that the Wraith now held a metal canister of some kind. As if the very sight of the bowl brought on hunger, her belly gurgled.

The demon placed the bowl down in front of her. The girl peered eagerly forth, only to realize that the 'food' brought to her looked like a mangled squirrel, peeled and very nearly raw. The girl scrunched up her face in disgust.

The demon growled a meaningless stream of words, pointing at the food. The girl looked on blankly. The tongue in which he spoke was nothing she had ever learned. She stared up at him. Again he pointed at the food and repeated the foreign word. The child assumed it meant 'eat' so, afraid of insulting him, picked up the meat. It was very cold.

She bit into it and felt the salty fluids leak into her mouth. The tendons and meat felt strange in her mouth, but her belly recognized it as nourishment when she finally forced it down and swallowed. Even when she wrinkled her nose, she couldn't help but think that it was better than nothing. She ravenously gobbled it down quickly, licking her fingers when she was done.

The demon grunted and rose.

The young girl craned her head up to look up at the creature. He seemed to be thinking, white lashes hooding his eyes. Somehow the child found comfort in his gaze.

The demon went on one knee before her, his face level with hers. He tapped her chest and rumbled something in his tongue. The girl cocked her head, trying to understand again. When he tapped her chest and rumbled again, she brightened, sat up straight, and smiled. She repeated the alien's words to the best of her ability, finding it hard to mimic it exactly with her high-pitched child's voice. It was the best approximation she could make. She accepted it, sensing even in her young mind that this would be her name for now on. She beamed happily when the demon slowly nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. It would only be later on to learn her name translated to 'Little Dagger.'

She waited expectantly to hear what would the Wraith's name would be, but he uttered nothing. Isn't he going to have a name? she thought. Everybody has a name.

Again with child-induced boldness she reached up and tapped his chest with her tiny hand, expectantly waiting for _him_ to return the favor of names.

The demon stared at the girl intently with his yellowish, cat-slit eyes. The girl child tapped on his chest again. The demon narrowed his eyes but no noise was forthcoming. The child stared back, not sure on how to take this. For all she knew, everyone _needed_ a name—even these strange aliens.

She boldly tapped his narrow chest, unafraid and not knowledgeable enough to realize that he was an eater of her kind.

"Warrior."

The Wraith narrowed his eyes to mere slits now and delighted her as he mimicked in his deep voice, _"Warrior."_

The child nodded her head up and down vigorously. She was delighted with the word game. "Warrior, Warrior," she reiterated, feeling pleased with herself.

_ "Warrior."_

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_Criticism welcomed. _


	3. The Tour

**A.N—**Just a note—my characters are talking in Wraith but I'm writing their dialog in English. Just a heads up.

**A.N#2**—Edited as of 6/8/10. Again, because I felt like revamping this old relic a little.

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"The Tour"

.s.

For three days the ship continued its course, heading back toward where it came from. During those days, Althea, as she was now called, remained within Warrior's room. She saw no other demons. She saw no other humans. He made her world with his random comings and goings. She latched onto his presence like a starving animal, making his every movement as important as a word from God.

One day upon the ship, Warrior entered the room, dressed in a more casual garb between what he wore when on duty and his hunting clothes. His long white hair was let loose and hung in thick sheaves on his shoulders. She liked to watch it shimmer in the multi-coloured wall and ceiling lights. He only rested in his room for short periods to either change clothes, check up on her, or have a communication lesson with her, but when he was there it seemed the coldness and darkness seemed to warm and lift. Whenever he returned she perked and waited for his attention.

Warrior pointed to the ground by his side, rumbling, _"Come."_

The girl went quickly to the demon's side. She looked up at him, eager and curious. She loved looking at the alienness of his face, his pale lips, his elegant mustachios, his facial slits.

Warrior grunted lightly and nudged her toward the door. He walked through the open doorway, his hand guiding her to follow him. This was the first time outside Warrior's room and she felt both intoxicating curiosity and apprehension. It was all so dark, just as in Warrior's room. The membranous yellow and red lights cast their glow along the corridors and floor.

The tall Wraith walked on, suddenly ignoring the girl. Althea realized that it was her duty to follow him and kept his right leg, she having to walk fast to keep up with his sinewy stride. Cobwebs and organic walls covered with arcane and intricate symbols flew past but nothing was lost under the girl's keen gaze. The ship seemed so endless and big. It felt as if she had been walking forever, lost in a spider's dream.

Suddenly there were heavy footsteps sounding just beyond them—nothing like the silent and well-placed steps. Althea veered closer to Warrior's pant leg, seeking protection from the unknown. Above her she could sense the Wraith's lolling chuckle of amusement. Amusement? Maybe it was at her reaction.

The clunking grew louder and suddenly another Wraith appeared on the other end of the corridor, heading toward them. The girl's eyes widened, locking her eyes up at the new demon. But was it the same demon? This one had a bony-like facial structure and seemed built entirely for the purpose of guarding or battle. It had muscular arms and shoulder-length dreadlocked hair that hung over its armor. In its arms was a strange weapon.

But as this strange demon drew close, it nodded slightly to Warrior and completely ignored the girl. Althea felt the strange demon's passing with some relief. Already from her experience she preferred Wraith more humanoid-looking with faces and eyes she could see.

The new demon continued walking down the hall whilst Warrior and she continued forward. Althea allowed herself a little space between her and the leg now that the 'danger' had passed. She continued her gaze about her in a fascinated fashion until she saw Warrior stop in the corner of her peripheral vision. Why is he stopping? she thought as she peered up at the Wraith.

She decided to test her new words she received from her lessons.

"Stop?" _(Homat?) _

The demon looked down at her with his green eyes, framed with the white lashes. He didn't answer but he nudged her around him until she was on his left side. If her eyes had been plates they were now dishes. It was a giant window—and beyond that was space. Cold little lights of distance stars and planets, so beautiful and terrifying at the same time, splattered the ebony darkness. Althea secretly looked at Warrior, who seemed be to contemplating and musing about something.

The girl pressed her face to the cold glass, marvel and awe on her face. Splatters of indigo blue and amethyst of a nebula spiraled past as the ship cruised past. _It's so pretty_, she thought as her warm breath fogged the window.

_ "Come,"_ Warrior said after a few more minutes, half turning, as if waiting for the girl. Despite her fascination the girl followed him obediently. Harbored deep in her brain was the drilled rule that she must obey all adults—and Warrior qualified as one. And so she followed him away from the window, the tiny prints of her hands still on them.

.s.

The tour continued as the demon 'showed' her around, him walking and the girl racing to keep up. More than once her little legs grew heavy and Warrior had to slow down, waiting for Althea to catch be breath. But he never once grew impatient or irritated with her delays. When they finally reached the destination that Warrior seemed to have decided, he opened the organic door and nudged her in.

Inside was a well-lighted room, thanks to the numerous blue-membranous lights stretched across some for the walls. It was spacious and large—almost as big as Warrior's quarters. But that wasn't what caused Althea to suddenly become stricken with shyness and confusion. There were _children_—demon children. There were ten in all, all of them ceasing what they were doing to gaze at the strange intruder. Some of them looked up at the tall form of Warrior and began to whisper amongst themselves.

They all ranged in height but Althea realized that she was one of the tallest there. They wore cottoney and strange clothing, different from her own ragged summer dress. They were mostly male but one or two of them were female, though all of them bore long hair ranging from pure black to icy brown.

Althea backed up to seek comforting support from Warrior, but was nudged—firmer this time—forward again. So this is where the tour will stop. She continued to stand still, her little hands playing with the hem of her summer dress as Warrior strode forward toward the back of the room. The children let him past, the females exchanging hissing words while the males looked up at him with awe and fierce admiration. But none of them approached him nor touched him; his reputation and position and power was too much for them. He cowered them with his stoic and dignified posture, his commanding presence, and aloofness.

Althea watched him walk up to a figure who appeared out of the shadows of a corner—another adult Wraith. A nanny or caretaker, she thought. _Her hair is so long._ _Why_ _is Warrior talking to her? Is it about me? And why are the others staring at me like that?_ Althea's attention was drawn away from the two talking Wraith to the group of staring children.

The two groups were so different, yet so provocatively similar. Sprung from the same ancient seed, the progeny of their common ancestor took alternate routs when the humans were used as hosts for the vampiric bug whilst the other continued its normal growth, both leading to a richly developed, if dissimilar, intelligence. Both sapient. Both were slender, straight-limbed.

Their faces were pale, their pupils slit like forest cats', and small facial slits on their cheeks, their hair dark. Their hair—for the males—would become white when they reached maturity whilst the females would either keep their hair-colour or become white-haired like the males. But Althea didn't know that. Yet.

The other with a tanned complexion after spending so much time in the sun, her pupil round and iris sea-grey, her cheeks unadorned by any facial slits except on her right cheek, where the four parallel marks were scabbing.

They continued to stare at each other until Warrior walked past again. He ignored Althea as he left, leaving her alone again. But she was getting used to that now as she turned her attention toward the children and caretaker.

Suddenly one of the males walked up to her and they stood head-to-head, Althea being his height. His hair was stark raven-black, his eyes an even deeper green than Warrior's. The two continued to stare at each other until suddenly the male-child 'roared,' his voice still high from the lack of maturity.

Althea slit her own eyes aggressively. She remembered Warrior's test. _I guess he's testing me too. _Taking a deep breath she 'roared' back at the male, posture imposing and in his face. There was no fear in her face. As far as she could tell, this was a ritual.

The male was taken aback by her reaction, but didn't roar anymore. Instead, something like admiration and appraisal surfaced briefly in his eyes before shrugging and walking away, back to the group. What, was that it? Althea blinked in confusion. On a spur-of-the-moment decision, she walked right toward them as well, following her 'welcomer.'

By now the other children wanted to take a good look at the strange visitor. With their own youthful abandon they touched her face and hair, talking to each other and commenting on the lightness of her hair and creaminess of her skin. One of the females reached down to feel the strange fabric of the summer dress between her thumb and index finger.

Althea felt a warm glow at the interaction and her sudden attention. These were children roughly the same age as her, and not intimidating like the adult Wraith. She smiled but it fell as the caretaker suddenly appeared.

She had long silver-white hair plaited in a braid-like rope that hung down to her tail-bone. She wore a white leather outfit, her claws bluish and exposed skin a lighter tone of Warrior's colour. She stared down at the girl with a disdainful expression on her face as she barked at the other children. Althea caught the words and vaguely understood that the Wraith was telling them to back away from her. _What did I do?_ she thought, worrying the tattered hem of her dress, looking up at the tall female Wraith.

_ "Follow," _she hissed suddenly, beckoning her to follow her. Althea followed her flowing figure, gulping, risking one last glance at the watching children. Then she turned back and followed her in a smaller, just as well-lit room.

.s.

The child was at a loss. There was a table in the middle of the small room and most of the lighting was centred there. The female Wraith deftly hefted Althea up from under her arms and placed her on the table. Althea was once again struck at the hidden strength of the demons'. She was picked up as if she weighed no more than a doll.

_ "Stand,"_ growled the female, standing before her.

Immediately as she was taught, Althea got up and stood still, focused and attentive, ready to do what would be asked of her. The female suddenly reached up with her sharp claws and slit the dress right down the centre, centimeters from her skin. The quickness of it all took her breath away as, too shocked to move, her ragged dress fell away from her shoulders.

Naked and shivering in the room, Althea waited, biting her lower lip. The Wraith narrowed her yellow eyes and slowly walked around the table, eyes never leaving the young girl's body. Final the caretaker stopped, once again in front of her.

Abruptly she turned away toward another smaller table in the corner of the small room. Althea craned her neck to see what the Wraith was doing, but couldn't see. So she amused herself by rubbing her arms, still confused. When the Wraith returned, she held something white in her hands. It looked warm.

The she-Wraith put it besides the girl and growl something. Butterflies erupted in the child's stomach as she realized that she didn't know that word. This was no Warrior who she could trust to remain patient and calm. How will _this_ Wraith react when she didn't immediately respond? She felt her cheeks flush as she blinked back at the caretaker.

The Wraith repeated the word impatiently and when she got no response snorted in irritation. She picked up the white material and thrust it in the child's hands. She backed away and rolled the word slowly again so Althea could hear.

The girl bobbed her head sheepishly, feeling the softness of the material between her fingers. She hastily pulled the shirt over her head and couldn't help but gasp as the softness and warmth. It was like summer again. Just as quickly she slipped in the pants, which the long shirt covered. She stood and looked down at herself. The shirt acted like a nightgown. The cold was immediately forgotten. The shirt molded to her straight child's body, perfectly her size and shape for her.

The she-demon gave the snort of approval that Warrior sometimes used and lifted Althea off the ground and onto the floor. With another beck, the girl was led out of the room and was right back in the children's nursery. And from there, she walked back to the Wraiths and began, shyly at first but quickly warming up, to play.

.s.

What seemed like hours passed by until Warrior appeared through the door, hands behind his back, his green eyes hooded. Althea immediately saw him and quickly abandoned her play to race besides his leg, staring up at him joyfully. All the children had gone—some of them picked up by those strange bony-faced Wraith and others by adult females. But no other males like Warrior.

The caretaker in the back of the room hissed something and Warrior rumbled something in reply before turning away through the door, expecting the girl to follow. Althea followed him, happy at his arrival and at her first flush at friendships. She, the young females and the young male that had first 'greeted' her had quickly became cautious playmates. Like all children they had quickly set aside their differences. Most of the males had retreated in their own play, as if it had been beneath their dignity to play with the females.

But now, with Warrior, everything was well. She quickly followed him, her white dress flowing, drinking in his unique husky and cobwebby scent. She felt proud of herself when she recognized the route Warrior took to get back to his quarters. Little by little she was getting used to this ship.

Finally after some pauses and rests Althea finally made it to the quarters, feeling worn out by her day's adventures. She blinked at the weariness as Warrior knelt on one knee before her, his face close to hers. _He sounds like he's purring, _thought Althea, listening to him breathe, as the Wraith cocked his head slowly as if examining her new outfit. _That's so funny_, she thought distractedly as he took her tiny chin between his sharp-clawed fingers. He rubbed the four scratches on her cheek with his thumb. They were healing nicely and no sign of infection. The girl broke into a smile, reached out and hugged him before he could startle away. Her gesture of affection seemed to unsettled him. He gently removed her arms from around his neck and stood up with a shudder.

But the girl didn't notice the demon's distaste. All she could think about was the warmth of her new clothes and her prospect playmates. A child's love bloomed within her as he growled at her to her bedding. She quickly fell asleep, the disarray of her hair flowing like sandy waves over the fur.

Then, he turn on his foot and walked out the door, heading toward the command bridge.

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Criticism welcomed.


	4. A New Homeworld

**A.N**—Edited 6/9/10. Ditto the last three comments.

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"The Homeworld"

.s.

Something was happening. She could feel it right down to her toes as the vibrations in the floor eventually grew. Even Warrior—the expressionless and stern Wraith—showed it in his posture and behavior. If Althea didn't know better, she'd say he was eager. Eager for what? What could cause such anticipation in her stoic provider? Althea couldn't fathom anything in her young mind, but even she who couldn't understand what was going on was caught up in the sense of restlessness that hung palpably in the air.

She first felt a change when Warrior didn't bring her to the nursery as he always did. Instead, he stayed in the quarters after entering and began to skillfully put on his clothing he wore when he was on duty. Althea watched curiously, unable to help but think how comfortable the leather would feel. _One day,_ she thought dreamily, _I will want one. Then I'll look like Warrior. I wish my hair was white like that_, she thought with childish desire.

She so desperately wanted to know why he was dressing up so importantly and why she wasn't being brought to the nursery, but didn't know the Wraith words for it. Again she felt the frustration at the lack of communication.

But she couldn't feel frustrated for long was the ship shuddered beneath her, the low vibrations groaning. She looked at the ground a little apprehensively. What's happening? What's wrong with the ship? Should she worry about it? But Warrior just continued on unconcerned, so trustingly Althea ceased to worry about it. He would know what to do.

Finally, after a small lurch and ship-wide shudder, the vibrations ebbed and diminished. The hum that was always present before disappeared. Althea looked about but quickly turned her attention back to Warrior as he walked to the door and pointed to the floor by his side.

_ "Come,"_ he rumbled, and Althea happily obeyed, running with youthful energy by his side. Giving her a grunt of praise, Warrior turned and walked out through the organic door, Althea by his heels.

As she walked down the halls she had never seen so many Wraith pass by. It was as if everyone had somewhere to go or do. Like ants on an anthill, she couldn't help think. But ants to avoid. They were mostly those bone-faced Wraith and male Wraiths like Warrior. Once she spotted a female herding one of her playmates being herded down a corridor. But Warrior didn't pause for her to greet him, making sure she was by his side at all times. Once she got distracted and he cuffed her, firm enough to show her the error of her ways. After she stopped for nothing.

Finally Warrior walked in a giant room that was filled with other Wraith—soldiers, males and a few assorted females. Althea once again crowded Warrior's leg, eyes wide at so many Wraith in one place. When she was 'touring' the ship she passed only a few. Where did all these Wraith come from? And where are they all going? The child followed Warrior to the front of the groups. Even though she couldn't see them, she just _knew_ that the Wraith were staring at her. Suddenly self-conscious and shy, Althea walked around Warrior and hid in his shadow, peeking out furtively once and a while. There were so many. Too many.

She felt the Wraith's hand descend upon her and he lightly tapped her head, rumbling. Whether he was talking to her or just growling she couldn't tell, but she felt soothed. She relinquished her death-grip just a bit, growing bolder when nothing scary or threatening happened.

Suddenly the floor underneath her feet gave a lurch and sounded like low thunder, startling her. Amazed she looked at the floor and realized that it was descending. Warrior straightened again, his hands behind his back and seemingly nonchalant. Finally something clicked in her brain. They were leaving the ship. Why else this sudden assembly of Wraith and Warrior's behavior?

The first thing that hit her was the cool wind that blew upward. She blinked against it, once again feeling thankful toward her warm white garbs. And as the ramp lowered further and further, the more and more she could see of her new home.

It was like she was in the middle of a giant pine forest city. She was confused for a moment since the landscape was growing right on top of the . . . how to describe them? It would only be later she would say they were Hive ships. There were seven structures in all, all positioned seemingly in a random fashion across the land. Worn paths connected them to each other. Their countless yellow eyes glared down at her, some of them covered by the trees and rocks and soil.

The thick scent of pine-sap filled the air. The air was fresh and clean and felt good after so long in the non-changing and ever-constant weather on the ship. Good air. It played with her hair as she looked up at the alien sky, noticing the two looming moons, their amethyst-tinted surfaces soft against the sapphire sky.

Her eyes were torn from the sky as above her Warrior hissed in a contented sort of way as if he felt pleased to return to his home world. He seemed so regal and commanding in that pose as he surveyed the sight. He inhaled and let it out with a pleased snort.

The winds also tossed his long hair as he began descending the ship's runway. Althea followed him closely, though she was being ignored by him as he stopped, suddenly, but she didn't care. She was too enthralled watching the Wraiths proceed off the ramp and ship, many of them bowing their heads slightly at Warrior before branching off toward the numerous Hive ships. Once again Althea was amazed at how many Wraith there were. There just seemed to be no end of them.

But Warrior didn't join them as he stood off to the side, his eyes once again having that hooded, half-asleep look. When he made no overtures he was going to follow them, Althea settled on the grassy ground, making herself comfortable. This continued until the flow of the ship-bounded Wraith began to wane, only one or five stragglers walking off instead of ten or fifteen at a time.

_ Does that mean we can go now?_ she thought distractedly, looking wistfully at the distant Hive ships. _Which one is ours? Will it be a big room like on the ship? I'm really hungry—I hope I get to eat soon._

But her hunger was quickly forgotten as she felt Warrior tense besides her. She looked toward her tall provider, finding that his back was straighter and chin up—as if he was at attention. Althea blinked in curiosity. What does that mean? All the Wraiths are gone—is this another ritual? _Should I do it too?_

Standing up as well, Althea mimicked Warrior's pose, hands behind her back and straight. She couldn't help but try to peek around his leg. Why was he acting like th . . .

Althea's breath was taken away as one solitary she-Wraith walked gracefully off the ramp. She was the most beautiful creature the young child had ever laid eyes on, but incredibly dangerous. It was as if an aura around her crackled with power, a mysterious and threatening strength that sent the child cringing by Warrior's leg. She had blood-red hair cascading off her shoulders, beautiful in contrast to the moonpale silvery dress. Her irises were icy-red as well, her lips well-figured and neckline graceful.

The she-Wraith tilted her head towards Warrior and hissed sensuously something, her voice thick liquid honey and smooth. It scared Althea more than anything she had ever experienced; she would rather have a Wraith roar in her face than have the she-Wraith speak. The girl quivered in fear.

Now this time it was Warrior who bowed slightly, something like a smirk suggested on his pale lips. The other laughed—Althea tried not to flinch with surprise—and beckoned him with a flick of her head suggestively. The smirk grew into a smile as Warrior walked toward her. It was as if Warrior was escorting her somewhere, Althea thought hesitantly, suddenly at a loss. The two seemed to be in a deep conservation and she felt nervous about what to do. Should she follow? Should she stay? Warrior didn't say anything to her and she didn't want to displease him in doing something she wasn't supposed to do.

Torn between two impulses—whether to follow or stay—Althea was just about to follow Warrior looked over his shoulder and said, _"Stay."_

Stay? He wanted her to stay? Confusion and a growing feeling of fear began to bloom as she halted, watching helplessly as Warrior and the she-Wraith continued to walk side by side, still conversing. Was he going to go back for her? The fear grew when he showed no signs of returning. Something deep down inside of her erupted, causing panic to rise briefly. The fear of being alone was intoxicating and she began to fidget, sidling like a nervous animal. Back on the ship she grew accustomed to Warrior's absence and spent hours alone on the ship—but being _left_ here _all alone _. . . Her eyes began to moisten with hurt and perplexity.

She stood there, tears welling up in her eyes, until a movement caused her to whirl around. She blinked her eyes rapidly to remove the tears as she gazed up at the caretaker Wraith.

The caretaker hissed. _"Come," _she said.

Immediately the girl wiped away her tears and brightened up. The fear was subdued so swiftly the child even forgotten she had been afraid. She followed the flowing white dress of the she-Wraith as she strode away from the ship and toward one of the Hive ships. Althea struggled to maintain the Wraith's pace, often having to run to keep up. The grass felt cool and tickled her feet. Once she spotted a river flowing nearby and enthusiastically thought about swimming—she never remembered learning how to swim, it just seemed she always knew.

But she had little time to dwell on that as the she-Wraith growled at her delay. They were nearing one of the Hive ships. Even with her head craned all the way back she still couldn't see all the way up. They were so big. They loomed when neared, filling the child with mingled feelings of apprehension and interest. They seemed so threatening and forbidding yet they promised shelter and a sense of 'home.'

The memory of him walking away sobered her. He would still care for her . . . wouldn't he? He would come back . . . wouldn't he?

But as she looked up at the caretaker she received no answers. Instead, she continued to think along that track even as she entered the enormous ship, walking close by the she-Wraith's leg.

It just as if they were back on the original ship. Same dark blue lighting, same membranous yellow and red lights. Same winding corridors with the same sandy ground. But everything was enlarged some way or another and didn't seem so cramped. The air smelt of cobwebs and pine sap, thanks to the air from outside filtered through.

The she-Wraith hissed again and nudged her toward a corridor—one that was winding upward, like stairs. Here despite the Wraith's impatient snorts they had to take breaks once and a while every time Althea's legs felt like they were going to drop off. Half-way along Althea realized that there was no walls or anything to keep her from falling to her death. Risking the caretaker's irritation the young girl looked down across the 'stair.' Her stomach swooned. After another firmer nudge by the caretaker, she realized she was going even fartherup.

.s.

It took the child and the caretaker about two hours to finally reach the destination. They had to walk on branch-like pathways and catwalks which kept on going up and up. There just seemed to be no end. Every so often those whining ships would fly past, going even higher up or settling themselves on landing platforms. They mostly passed bone-faced guards and one or two male Wraiths—like Warrior—along the paths.

Althea was so tired that she was beyond caring, and gratefully followed the she-Wraith off another stairway onto a level passage. She was so weary that she didn't gaze around in an enthralled way as she usually did but focused on following after the caretaker. She almost bumped into her when she suddenly stopped in front of a set of organic doors. The caretaker opened it and not-so-gently pushed her in.

Althea blinked rapidly and whirled around when the doors closed—leaving her alone again. But that didn't deter the child as she looked about the dark blue room with renewed curiosity, her weariness half-forgotten.

These quarters were three times as big as the one on the other ship, and much more luxurious. It was divided in two rooms, one major one and another one annexed from the other and much more smaller. There were a sleeping place in one corner of the larger room covered with soft and warm-looking exotic black furs. Besides it was a small table with the same organic design as the doors. Along the wall covered with ornate, intricate black swooping symbols and cobwebs was a small closet-room. Althea guessed that was where Warrior kept his leather clothes that she so admired. As in the other ship's quarters, there was a weapon rack with beautiful daggers and knives and pistol-looking guns.

But where was Warrior? Althea gnawed on her bottom lip, feeling the old fears resurface with a vengeance. Was he still with the beautiful she-Wraith still? He would come back . . . would he?

With the nagging feeling at the back of her mind, she decided firmly that if this was indeed Warrior's room, then she should make herself a bed.

But her search came up empty as she looked through both rooms for her own bed. She scrunched her face up in thought, drawing her brows together. An idea sparked in her mind as she brightened up. With purpose, Althea marched to Warrior's bed and began to tug the black furs off. When she collected a suitable amount, she thought about where she would place them.

Should she sleep by his bed? _No, I don't think so_, she mused after remembering fondly Warrior's reactions at her closeness. The very thought of him brought an ache to her heart. Though her mind had blocked out memories of her own father, her heart had not forgotten. Warrior had replaced that man whom she loved and lost.

Sniffling slightly, the girl dragged the covers into the smaller room and made a nest in one of the corners. She was so tired at she immediately crawled up between her makeshift bed and fell asleep.

.s.

She awoke to the sounds of the doors opening and without a second thought she leapt out of her warm nest, racing out of the small room. Her joy bubbled over as she felt a warmth toward him, as she had done many times to another man she remembered only vaguely. Her Warrior, her fearsome and handsome protector had returned.

The Wraith seemed tired as he was in the middle of removing his leather wrist gauntlets. He seemed surprised when Althea latched to one of his legs, burying her face on the leg in happiness and relief.

She looked up adoringly at him and said in Wraith, "Come?"

At this the stern expression seemed to soften as he knelt on one knee before her. He brushed a rebellious strand of hair from her face with a bluish claw and rumbled in reply, _"Yes, come."_

Althea smiled happily. Everything was better now. Warrior would still provide and be with her. She hadn't lost him to the dangerous female.

Something had caught Warrior's eye as he stood up again, frowning slightly. Althea let go of his leg and followed his gaze. Warrior walked over to the bed with the disturbed furs. The girl couldn't help but grin sheepishly. The Wraith turned to her, hissing in his bemused tone and pointing at the bed. If he had an eyebrow he would have cocked it.

Althea fearlessly went up and tugged at the Wraith's hand, gripping the cool skin. Again Warrior rumbled as she towed him toward the smaller room. With childish pride she pointed at the lump of furs. Warrior snorted lowly and nudged her toward the furs.

Without any more encouragement Althea went to her 'bed' and curled up in the still-warm furs, feeling warm content and safety follow to sleep. The Wraith continued to look upon the trusting and innocent face of the child a moment longer before, with another snort, returned to the large room and proceeded to change again from where he left off.

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Criticism welcomed.


	5. Lessons

**A.N—**To all of you who are looking for a faster pace, I promise I'll quicken it up. These past few chapters have been an . . . introduction, so please don't lose interest. It would be kind of silly to quicken the intro now or else this fic would seem . . . unrealistic, so I thank all of you for not giving up on me.

**To everyone else who reviewed—**Thank you all so much for all your support.

**A.N#2**—Edited as of 6/9/10. Because.

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"Lessons"

.s.

Time quickly passed as weeks and eventually months flew by. As the time progressed, with his stoic patience and the girl's eager willingness, Althea began to understand more and more of the language and culture of her adoptive people. Too long had her attempts to communicate had been balked. And now that Warrior was around more her lessons proved more fruitful.

Althea learned rapidly the ways of the Hive. The ruler supreme was called the Keeper or the Queen—it was she who made all the decisions and choices for the Hive. The Wraiths followed her without question and absolute loyalty. Beneath her were the leaders who were something like her 'inner circle.' There were only three of them, Warrior being one of them. The oldest and most experienced led, and it was only the males. Females, one to every seventy males, that weren't the Queen were more vicious and slyer than the males physiologically since they all had a chance to become Queen if the Keeper died. But they were there mostly to reproduce and were a means of pleasure for the males.

On a daily level, the soldiers never spoke and could be ignored easily enough. The adult males thought it was beneath their dignity to pay any attention to the child but she avoided them, always keeping her head down and respectful just as Warrior taught her. In this culture, it was a direct threat to stare another Wraith in the eyes—just like wild animals—and the lower-ranked one was, the lower they kept their gaze. And since she was the lowest of the low, she always kept her head down.

But after two or three painful adventures with female Wraiths, she came into the knowledge that it was always good policy to let such females alone, to keep away from them as far as possible, and to avoid them when she saw them coming. Males would ignore; females would stop and sneer and scoff.

Another thing she learned very quickly was that the act of staring a Wraith in the face was equivalent to a challenge. And _no_ Wraith took a challenge—or any challenge for that matter—lightly.

But Althea had little trouble with that since Warrior taught her so well. Only he could teach her to curb her natural curiosity and impetuous enthusiasm. Wraiths had a rigid hierarchy and customs and traditions—persons could be taught their place in more than one painful ways. Warrior knew that from the beginning and if Althea was to survive, she would have to learn those ways quickly.

But she took it upon herself to learn quickly and was immediate to please, eager and attentive. One sharp word from Warrior or a cuff and she learned fast to not repeat her mistake. It was an expression of his disapproval, which Althea wilted under. He was a fair teacher, never cuffing when she didn't deserve it.

.s.

Althea, when Warrior deemed her ready for a longer leash, learned that the she could run along the entire upper level corridor of the Hive without being harassed since it all belonged to Warrior. Somehow she knew that the others knew that she was his ward, and didn't want to risk his wrath. But they weren't above punishing her if she did anything wrong, so she made sure she didn't fail Warrior.

Warrior was learning too. He discovered that when she made a certain grimace, pulling back her lips and showing her teeth often accompanied by peculiar aspirating sounds, it meant she was happy, not hostile. She needed three meals for her to sustain a normal growth, and her affections were not hostile, but out of fondness.

He himself was never effusively affectionate. He was not demonstrative. He had too great a responsibility and position to show his emotions. He would not go up to her. Instead, he waited for her to come to him. Later on a pleased light would come to his eyes when he was her approaching, and that he looked after her with an appearance of curious regret when she left. But it was her did the leader's stoic reserve soften. He was never so gentle, so pliable, as when the small child fell asleep with the peaceful assurance of security in the proud and stiff leader's arms.

.s.

One day when Althea was eight and washing Warrior's hunting garment when he went out on a culling, the organic doors opened and in walked in Warrior. She looked up expectantly.

_"Come with me, Little Dagger,"_ he said, and she went immediately to his side. _What does he want with me?_ she thought as he led her out and down the corridor. She already knew all the nooks and crannies of the ship. _Except for the very left fork at the end,_ whispered her mind. He wouldn't show me _there._ I wonder why?

Althea had to trot alongside to keep up with his stride. Cringing a little she remembered the harsh scolding she received when she tried to peek down that wing. Never had she been spoken so strongly to; she had been crushed.

But now Warrior nudged her toward the branch-like stairs. Althea gulped and felt uneasiness creep into the back of her mind. Going up them was _one_ thing . . . going down was entirely another. As they neared it, never had it looked so steep. It was like looking down a huge cliff. She couldn't even see the bottom. Her throat tightened and she looked up at Warrior.

"I don't think I can, Warrior," she said hesitantly. "Big . . ." What would be the word? " . . . drop."

At this Warrior's lips quirked slightly upward—another sign that she had learned that he was amused. His hooded green eyes regarded her small form beneath his white lashes. After a second, he stooped down and picked her up. Althea again felt dizzy way up on his shoulders as he wrapped her around his neck like a shepherd holding a lost lamb. His long white hair felt cool and tickled her exposed wrists as she held on tight to his shoulder. His leather felt cool as well.

_ "Hold on,"_ he rumbled as he began to descend the branch-like path. Althea closed her eyes tight. It was like they were going to fall off. But Warrior's steps were well-placed and clever; it was like resting on glass, so smooth was his travel. But she continued to keep her eyes closed against the sight until Warrior reached up and placed her back on her feet.

Althea blinked and swiftly followed the tall alien after he began to walk away in another direction. By now her curiosity was burning inside of her.

"Where are we going?" she asked, looking about her as she spoke, trying to recognize a clue of their destination.

_ "Another lesson, but not for you,"_ he rumbled in an elusive reply. _"Turn here."_

Althea was nudged into another room and couldn't help the twinge of shyness. There was an assembly of all sitting young adolescent males, twenty of them, their hair in various stages of turning salt-white. They were dressed in various designs of leather garments when Warrior was dressed casually. Later when Althea grew older she would find out that when a Wraith reaches maturity they would switch their white child's clothes for adult clothing.

Is he going to leave me here? she thought suddenly, feeling uncomfortable. Adult Wraith mainly ignored her. But adolescents_ . . ._ just like the females, they would stop and stare and sneer. At that time Althea still didn't know why. She hoped he didn't leave her there. She kept her head down and respectful, just as she was taught. She especially didn't want to be reprimanded here_._

But this time, Warrior stayed in the room, even allowing Althea to stand slightly by his leg. He was in his 'leader' mode; back straight, hands clasped behind his back, eyes now intense, as if he was fully awake. Althea never thought him more handsome in the child-like mind.

She was glad that he stayed becomes some of the adolescent males had a strange greedy hunger in their eyes as they fixed glares at her. They gave toothy smiles and nudged each other; some scratched at their palms as if they were itchy . . . as if in anticipation. _Anticipation for what?_ thought Althea a little worriedly as she apprehensively cast her eyes up at her provider. She didn't like the Wraiths' looks.

_ "As you all know, you are all reaching the age when you will abandon solid foods for other . . . sources of nourishment," _began Warrior, eyes slowly roving about the assembled young males. This was followed by a low rumbles of chuckles and not-so-subtle nudges. Once again Althea felt uneasy at their pointed, hungry stares.

Warrior seemed not to notice this as he continued. _"But to fully reach adulthood, one must understand their prey. That means their habits, their behavior, their weakness and strengths."_

The Wraiths all nodded their heads, their eyes narrow and growing excited grins all around. Some of them kept their faces neutral and blank; others seemed uncomfortable with the whole discussion.

_ "This is my ward, Little Dagger. She is my responsibility and will be aiding us on our 'lessons.'"_ He voice remained cool, even pleasant. But his eyes grew colder than ice chips and just as hard as flint.

_ "And if any of you so much as look at her in a way which displeases me . . ." _his predatory, tranquil smile grew, _". . . I will personally make sure you eat solid food forever. Do we all understand each other?"_

Now, Althea didn't catch all the words but as she noticed that the greedy, hungry glow in their eyes were quenched so fast in made her blink. He must have threatened them dire consequences.

A little sullenly, the Wraiths settled down again. Warrior looked around with satisfaction. Little Dagger would not be harmed by them.

_ "Good. Now, this is obviously a female human offspring,"_ he began again, utterly business and in teaching mode, guiding Althea to stand in front of him. Forty glinting eyes stared at her. Althea kept her eyes to the ground.

_ "This is a female eight years of age. It's pointless to eat human offspring; their hearts cannot handle the strain of the Pull, even with the enzyme we inject into them. When they reach around thirteen— age of growth—her mammal glands will develop. You may eat them then. In males, look for the robust, strong and large ones. Twenty years is when they reach their prime, but it all depends on their spirit and inner strength. The more they fight back, the better."_

The Wraiths were all watching Warrior, attentive. This was valuable knowledge and it was not always one of the leaders made their presence to teach.

_ "If you are selecting females to feed upon, look for the ones that aren't pregnant nor if is carrying a young. We need their numbers to increase, and it would be foolish to hunt them,"_ he said. _"Of course, if you are desperate, that is a different matter, though still I strongly advice against it." _

He hesitation was so small Althea hardly noticed it.

_ "However, the myth is true that human mothers taste better than most males because of their maternal instincts and desire to protect their offspring." _

He looked around with his eyes. _"Questions?"_

One of the young Wraiths placed a fist over his chest—a polite request to speak to a superior.

_ "Yes," _said Warrior, nodding his consent.

The young male took looked cautiously at Althea and asked, _"How do you tell the difference between the genders?"_

_ " Females carry breasts for feeding their young and their hips are wider than a males for the birth canals during pregnancy. Males generally have shorter hair and much more muscular."_ A pause._ "Any other questions?"_

This time it was one in the back.

_ "Leader, some say we must we careful of them. Why is that?"_

Warrior nodded sagely. _"That is a good question. Yes, it is true that they lack our strength and ability to heal. Even their strongest males are weaker than you."_

Some of the Wraith smirked with contempt.

Warrior ignored them as he continued, _"But their true strength lies here." _With his other hand, he placed his hand on top of Althea's head, tapping it lightly. The sensation sent cold water splashing down her spine, giving her the shivers despite the child's clothing.

_ "What they lack in strength they make up for in cunning and intelligence. Many a good Wraith went down because of his overconfidence. Never underestimate your prey. Ever." _

His stern tone and firm stare wiped their arrogant sneers off just as quickly as if he had threatened them. None questioned Warrior's wisdom. He was the eldest and wisest of all three leaders, and spoke from experience.

He looked around again. _"Any other questions?"_

Silence.

_ "Good. We will continue tomorrow. You may leave."_

Without another word the young males filed out, each nodded their heads respectfully at the leader, carefully ignoring Althea. Warrior watched them out, that hooded look returning to his eyes, that carefully concealed keenness. When they were all out, Warrior gently tapped the child's head.

Althea played with the hem of her dress. Try as she might, she couldn't even catch half of what they were saying; Warrior spoke too fast. But, at least, she hoped she played her role well. She looked up at the Wraith hopefully.

"I did good?"

Warrior knelt down one knee and a small ghost of a smile entered his green cat-slitted eyes. _"Yes, Little Dagger. You did very well today. More tomorrow."_

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Criticism welcomed.


	6. The Left Wing

**A.N**—Edited 6/9/10.

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"The Left Wing"

.s.

_ One year later in her ninth year . . ._

It had became a routine, now, these strange meetings with the adolescents. All what she would do was stand, quiet and respectful, while Warrior talked or answered questions. She had never been poked or prodded more. Little by little she learned that she was some sort of specimen the Wraith studied until they fully reach maturity for when they hunted.

_ Hunt? Hunt what?_ she often thought after almost every lesson. She would sometimes ask Warrior, but Warrior always seemed to elude the question, always promising another time, and she would let it be until the next time.

Sometimes, if it was nice out, after a lesson she would walk outside with Warrior as a "reward." There he would teach her the names of trees and things of nature. But most other times she would be placed into another nursery after a lesson. Her ability to communicate improved rapidly to the point of fluency, especially with the help of the clan children both language and culture-wise. As human, she had an . . . obligation . . . to obey them no matter what. She rebelled at first, bringing down the wrath of both the caretaker and stern disapproval from Warrior. It was her duty. She still didn't understand _why,_ but if it kept her from trouble, she did as she was told.

But there was one bane to her life.

He was called Morgar. He was two years the senior of all the children, ebony hair and greenish yellow eyes. But the day he saw her, those yellow eyes were narrowed and hateful.

Morgar craved attention, he thrived on it. For him, it was a necessity. He was already the most skilled of all the young Wraith when it came to hand-to-hand combat and was the 'bully' of the nursery, the centre of admiration and envy. He loved to strut about and proclaim his talent, and all of the other young Wraiths conceded to his superior strength with submission. He had always been the talk of the children.

Until _she _came.

She usurped the attention he wanted. By her very appearance she drew attention to herself reflexively. Even more so, she sharing the quarters and fondness of the formidable leader, the mightiest of the three leaders. And when she got to receive the special attention of the adolescents during their lessons it filled him with such jealously. Heshould be the one learning about hunting, not her. And why should she receive all that attention?

Althea instinctually felt his hatred for her. It confused her but knew that, deep down, she had to evade him. She tried to ignore him, always avoiding him. However, that backfired when Morgar thought her indifference was because she had no respect for his authority.

But the real problem was that she wasn't Wraith. She was a human. At a deep, unconscious level, Morgar sensed the opposing destinies of the two. Althea was more than a threat to his masculinity, she was a threat to his existence. His hatred for her was the hatred of the old of the new, the tradition for the innovative, of the dying for the living. The instinctual hatred of a dog toward a wolf.

Because Morgar hated her, all flushes of friendships quickly cooled toward the other Wraiths for her. They just didn't want to risk their 'leader's' wrath, no matter how interesting the girl might be, and began to ignored her for the sake of Morgar. Althea discovered that they wouldn't play with her or get up to play somewhere else when she appeared. After several rebuffs at her overtures, Althea let them alone.

All but one.

Althea found one that wasn't swayed by Morgar's power: Lynex, the very 'welcomer' that roared at her the first time she ever entered a nursery. It was he that stayed by her side, that showed her the finer nuances of the language. Althea to this day never knew what made him stay with her while all the others ignored her. Maybe it was his respect for her strength. Maybe they found mutual ground with their contempt and ill-will toward Morgar.

And who could know the motives of a Wraith?

But whatever it was, it made him her ally that day she first came to the Hive's nursery. She liked him: he was quiet for a male, not the bragging or boasting type. He never took advantage he was a Wraith and she was a human, never treating her as the lowest of the low but as an equal.

He had a calm air about him, something aloof and distant that set him apart. An inner strength. Like a leader surveying his followers with a calculating eye. Sometimes, when Althea could see his side profile, he made her think he was a tiny version of Warrior. Could they be related? He looked so much like Warrior . . . except for his eyes. They were too dark. She once asked him who his father was, but Lynex had shrugged, saying that Wraith didn't know who their sires were.

It was there when Althea vowed she would find out.

.s.

Althea closed her eyes, drawing in deep breaths. It was a clear day that day, the twin moons clear cut as crystals in the sky thanks to no humidity. Wraiths tended to enjoy habitats with little or no annual humidity or wetness and settled on planets that were air-dry or cold. With that said, the smell of pine trees and forest loam was sharp and pleasant, unmuffled by humidity. Hidden chickadees and mourning doves sang their songs. It smelt of home.

Home. This was her home. After a lot of getting used to the Wraith and after many hard lessons in the perfect behavior and all those customs, she had done it. It was now officially four years since she'd been with them, and had survived. Not just by the skin of her teeth, but actually settled and fitted in. Of course, since she was different in appearance she was the lowest of the low, having always the responsibility to be subservient and respectful.

But Althea didn't want to think about that as she sat in the thick blanket of the vividly-green moss. A silver brook burbled just beyond her curled feet, little narcissuses bending their heads as if drooping. The sunlight dappled down on the terra cotta soil, speckling the surroundings with light.

Warrior 'sat' in his usual way—one knee drawn up to his chest, arms circled around it with hands clasped together. His hair around his face was tied by a piece of rawhide that tied on the back of his head, that way his hair was still down but out of his face. His eyes were closed.

Althea knew from experience that he was either meditating or in very deep thought, as he was often if he had to come to a big decision. It was best that she didn't disturb him, so she occupied herself scratching little designs in the soft smooth bark of the nearby clump of alders with her fingernails.

Her drawings were cut short as Warrior opened one eye and rumbled, _"It's time to go, Little Dagger."_

"Do we have to?" she said. "It's still nice out."

_ "Yes, we do,"_ he said, pulling himself up. _"And it's not proper to question a Wraith_ _when he has made a decision, Little Dagger,"_ he chided.

"Yes, Warrior," she responded. She walked silently beside him, but soon her youthful exuberance took over, and she was running ahead again.

Althea had found early that she enjoyed the solitude of ranging the area by herself. She loved its quietness, its peacefulness. Besides, there were so many game trails and beaten paths that ran their course deep into the forest that she couldn't possibly get lost. It gave her a sense of freedom to be away from the subtly ever-watchful clan.

Warrior never made open objections, but her eagerness to go off by herself gnawed at him. She never shirked her duties, always behaved properly, there was nothing she did that Warrior could identify as wrong. It was more a feeling—as sense that her attitude, her approach, her thoughts were, not wrong, but different—that kept him on edge about her. But as long as her forays didn't get in the way of her duties, he could not object.

She ran back holding out plants and sticks, telling Warrior the names, or asking him if she couldn't remember. He answered absentmindly, finding it hard to pay attention as if there was a tumult in his mind.

.s.

Warrior was silent and preoccupied when he walked her back to his quarters, as if again deep in thought. Althea was puzzled by Warrior's behavior. Usually he was sure of himself, so confident. But now it seemed as if he was indecisive.

Indecisive? Her Warrior? Althea more than once looked up at the tall Wraith as she walked besides him. _Why would he be so lost in thought? Is it something about me? Oh, I __hope__ it's not about me. But why would it? I didn't do anything wrong . . . did I?_ Suddenly Warrior wasn't the only one caught up by their thoughts.

Althea began to worry and bit her lower lip. _I hope it's not about Morgar_, she thought a little sullenly. _He's always getting me in trouble. But I don't think . . . no, it's not about him. But what would it be?_

Althea blinked in surprise as Warrior walked past the double organic, membranous doors. Where was he taking her? Another tour? But she already knew all the places on this level. _Except the left wing,_ her mind whispered again. He would never let her down . . . wait a minute—why was he stopping?

They stopped just before the corner of the fork that led right and left. Warrior had always allowed her to go to the right, but _never _to the left—ever. It was forbidden. But as the young girl looked up at Warrior expectantly, the Wraith seemed oddly passive, not meeting her eyes quite.

She decided to risk his patience.

"Why did we stop, Warrior? Are we going somewhere?"

_ "I want you to go down the left corridor, Little Dagger,"_ said the Wraith leader, still strangely not meeting her upturned face. _"Then come back."_

"Yes, Warrior," conceded Althea, bewildered by her strange instructions, but she didn't question them as a good girl should. So without another thought, she walked down the dark blue path.

.s.

The first thing she noticed was that the lighting was darker than any other place on the level—even Warrior's dark blue quarters' lighting was lighter than this. Her inquisitiveness was ravenous and she looked about her with her usual youthful curiosity.

Nothing different. No chained monsters, no lurking creatures. Nothing of interest, actually. Just a normal—if not darker lit—hall. Althea shivered lightly under her child's white clothing. So it was colder, big deal. She dutifully continued to spy about, her curiosity ebbing slowly when there was nothing obvious to fuel it. She was just about to return to Warrior when she looked up.

It was her fault; she had been careless. If she had continued to look around at eye-level she might have missed it.

But she didn't.

At first she could only look on with the solemnity of a child; she said nothing nor voiced no outcry. She just continued to stare, solemn and sober, too numb to truly comprehend what she was seeing. After a while, she could only feel resounding puzzlement and a hurt, deep down inside her, welling up like a bubble.

It was a human, old and motionless, his wispy white hair raggedy and thin. His face was weathered and worn, creased with a thousand wrinkles, his skin seemingly thin as paper. Cobwebs covered the visible thin and skeletal parts of the body that weren't concealed by the pod-like case he was in. If he was alive, she knew naught, but it looked as if he would be better off dead.

She could only cringe, frozen with fear like a rabbit. What did this mean? Her betrayed mind began to babble, trying desperately to search for answers and rationalize this upheaval of the universe. What could this _mean?_

Althea pushed the thoughts down with a grim will of effort as when she stepped back, she found entire rows of similarly silent humans. But still she voiced nothing. But still she continued to stare back at the haggard and hollow faces solemnly.

Suddenly, a terrible thought trickled in the back of her mind, like a tendril of a poisonous plant. What if she would look . . . no, _be_ like them . . . when she grew older? Was that going to be her fate? They're were all so old, so worn. So human . . . Her betrayed mind shrieked at her to run.

But she couldn't move. There was no where to go. She would never escape before she would be captured by—wait a minute! Warrior would keep that from happening . . . right? _Right?_ she thought with feverish hope. He would protect her, right? He would never let that happen! . . . would he?

She received no answers from the silent, ethereal faces of the humans. Then something inside of her snapped. With a sob, she rushed back to the entrance of the terrible wing, back to the sole hope to her plight.

She flung herself at Warrior, latching onto his leg and burying her face in the leather, something she had not done for close to a year. Her tears wetted the leg but she didn't care as she continued to cry. Now that she was safe in his presence, the horrifying seriousness of the left wing crashed on her.

Above her, Warrior said nothing nor made a motion to detach her from him, which he usually did. Instead, he remained silent until Althea, her eyes red and swollen and puffy, looked up and sobbed, "Why are those people there, Warrior? Am I going to be like them? Warrior, don't let them take me! I'll be good! I'll be good, I promise! I promise, I promise," she babbled, hurt tears flowing down her face as she buried her face into his leg again.

Underneath her face, she could feel Warrior bend his knee in his usual kneeling position whenever he wanted to observe her up close. She looked up again, sniffling, as the firm clawed fingers grasped her chin and lifted it up.

_ "Little Dagger. . . ,"_ began Warrior quietly, _"You must learn. I cannot hide you from the truth any longer."_

"The truth?" Althea sniffled, bringing one hand up to wipe her wet eyes. "What truth?"

Here Warrior gave a nearly invisible sigh. _"The Wraith use humans as nourishment—the only source of nourishment. We depend upon them to survive. We need their life-force."_ He looked deeply in Althea's eyes seriously. _"Do you understand, little one?"_

"You . . . you eat them?" Althea said hesitantly, now wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.

Warrior looked away, as if unable to keep her gaze. _"Yes."_

Panic surged through her as she felt fresh tears flow down her cheeks as she sobbed, "You'll still care for me, Warrior? You'll care for me? I still live with you?"

The Wraith looked back at her with surprise on his face. She was more worried by his care than the fact that his kind fed on hers. Astonishment filled him as he stared, shocked, at the young girl crying on his leg. The astounded Wraith could also hardly believe it.

"Are you angry? Are you not going to care for me?" she asked, burst out in fresh tears. He was still mystified, but he sensed the girl's confusion.

_ "I will care for you, Little Dagger. I won't leave you."_

Instantly comforted, Althea wiped the snot and tears as she looked up at him with wet, moist eyes. His words made everything seem right again. He was Warrior—and he _never _lied to her. Every word smacked with confidence and reliance.

"Promise?" She looked up at the utterly alien face—the pale lips, the twin mustachios, the cat-slitted eyes behind the white lashes, the facial slits—and felt he was more human than those poor shadows down in the left wing. He only mattered. He was her kind now, her young mind reasoned. She may resemble humans physically, but she was supposed to be a Wraith. She was living with them, not humans.

_ "I would never lie to you,"_ Warrior rumbled.

Althea brightened and smiled through her tear-streaked mask and released the leg to hug him, burying her face now in his chest. It didn't matter that he ate humans. The only thing that mattered was _she _wasn't going to suffer such a fate because he would protect her. He was still hers.

The little girl, worn out by her emotions, had fallen asleep. She felt secure with the fearsome Leader. He had replaced in her heat a man she no longer remembered except in some unconscious corner. As the Wraith looked at the peaceful, trusting face of the strange girl in his lap, he felt something he had never experienced before, the emotion which the Wraith tongue had no word for it. He decided then and there: she would live for another purpose than the one he intended to give her at the beginning.

.s.

But that night in the quarters, Althea cried out in her strange language, when she awoke and clung to Warrior until she fell back into a troubled sleep. She had lapsed into her own tongue without realizing it, it only coming out in her dreams. She didn't know what the nightmare was, but she woke from the haunting nightmare, she couldn't help a feeling of terrible desolation.

…..

….

….

Criticism welcomed.


	7. The Hardest Lesson of All

**A.N—**Edited 6/10/10

.

"The Hardest Lesson of All"

.s.

It was only painstakingly slowly over the course of the following months did Althea fully realize what Warrior had been saying that the Wraith fed on her kind. Her child-like need for security had blinded her to the fact to until much later. Even then, Althea adapted.

There was no other word for it.

Part of her recoiled and felt a terribly crushing fear. Her buried 'human' part. Thatpart of her found little expression. But her other part—the one given much impression and trained and used daily—accepted it. In fact, Althea accepted it with the simple reasoning of a child: Wraith needed to eat. All living things needed to eat. It just so happened that Wraith needed to eat on humans.

To this day Althea didn't know why she took it so well. Maybe it was because she got the chance to see beyond the whole 'human-lifesuckers' part. She saw them care for her, clothe her, feed her. They had their own customs and traditions; they weren't mindless eating machines nor just plain killers. They may not be publicly affectionate, but at least they did their share to ensure her survival. They were family—maybe deadly kin—but kin nonetheless to her young mind.

Those poor, limp living carcasses in the left wing? They weren't 'family.' Not like Warrior, or Lynex. They just happened to look like her. She was Wraith. Wasn't she?

.s.

As Althea's sense of 'family' grew in her attempt to rationalize the Wraiths' eating habits, her bond with Lynex strengthened to the point they sought each other out. Warrior would only grunt nonchalantly if he was busy, letting her go without attention. She didn't know it pleased him that she was fitting in as easily as she was now, despite the truth of his nourishment. Warrior was doing a creditable job of training the child; much better than he himself had expected. Everything was working well and he was reluctant to change it. Althea was learning to communicate and to behave well within Wraith customs. He could draw a breath free from anxiety.

But all this went unheeded by Althea as she skipped down the huge organic branch-like series of stairs, heading off to the nursery to meet her playmate. Of course, whenever she neared it she immediately ceased her youthful walk and replaced it with one of tight control. She was very careful of the way she walked, keeping her head down with the proper attitude as she neared the nursery. She knew the least infraction would bring the Morgar's wrath, no matter how small. Once again, she didn't worry too much about the adult Wraiths since though the males may be curious about her, it was beneath their dignity to show too much interest in a female child no matter how unusual, and she ignored them as much as they ignored her.

But Morgar . . .

She didn't let that bother her as she entered the nursery, making sure she made a respectful signal to the keen-eyed caretaker in the corner before walking over to Lynex. Lynex's dark eyes followed her as she neared.

_ "You took your time, Little Dagger."_

"Was I supposed to hurry?" smiled Althea as she sat down besides him, utterly at ease. "What do you want to do today?"

Lynex shrugged his shoulders, his hair a dark contrast against the whiteness of the child's clothing.

_ "I've have nothing in mind. You?"_

Althea narrowed her eyes in thought. Suddenly something in her mind surfaced.

"Can I see your hand?"

Lynex eyed her, amused at her request. _"Am I supposed to worry?"_

"No, I just want to look. Can I see?" she asked again, reaching her own hand out. Lynex paused. If he didn't want to let her see, Althea would have to respect his wish and not ask again. Even if he was a child, he already outranked her.

But Lynex, bemused but not offended, offered his own hand, a faint quirk on his lips.

_ "Here. Enjoy yourself."_

"Thanks," said Althea in an afterthought voice, holding the Wraith's hand with her two. The skin felt cool compared to hers, and smooth, as if he had no hair. His claws had the same quality to human nails. It was later in maturity where they would harden and grow like cat's claws. She turned it over so she was looking at the palm, holding her face close to it.

Lynex cocked one eye-ridge higher than the other, a Wraith's equivalent to a raised eyebrow.

_ "Care to fill me in, Little Dagger? I think you have a hand as well."_

"But not this," Althea said as she poked a finger directly in the centre of his palm. With a loud snort Lynex whipped his hand back to his side with surprise. When Althea looked at him, expecting a rebuke, he smiled sheepishly.

_ "Apologies. I'm . . . ticklish there."_

"Sorry. Should've known," said the girl with a smile of her own. The smile disappeared when she gestured back at the hand. "You've got something in the middle of your hand, you know?"

_ "Really? Where?"_

"There." Althea gently took his hand again and showed him the thin, nearly invisible slit on his palm. It was like a thread of white, hardly noticeable in the dark blue light.

Lynex brought his hand closer to face, interested. When he looked away from it, he grunted, _"Good eyes."_

Althea shrugged, but inside felt the warm glow of his complement. Instead, she was more interested with what it _was._

"Why do you think you have it?"

At this Lynex thought for a moment, eyes having that half-awake quality Warrior sometimes had.

_ "It's for when I grow older,"_ he said finally, tracing the fine undeveloped slit. _"When I'll feed on humans." _A wistful look settled on his features. _"I can't wait. If only I could grow up faster . . ." _He snorted. _"I can't wait to get out of these clothes. Real leather, Little Dagger! Wouldn't that be fun? And being able to hunt . . . wouldn't that be fun?"_

Althea contemplated what her friend said, thinking about what it would be like. The clothing change, yes. But hunting?

"Do you think I'll be able to feed like you, Lynex?"

Lynex opened his mouth, but closed it. He looked at her with pity.

"Oh," said Althea, sighing. She felt a spark a jealously. Why can't see have her fun later? Eating solid foods was just so boring. And the thrill of the hunt? Where would she be when he was having all his fun while she was stuck in the Hive ship, still in the nursery? What if she ended up like the caretaker?

Lynex, as if sensing her thoughts, tried to cheer his companion up. _"Don't worry, Little Dagger. I'm sure when you grow older . . . it'll get better, trust me,"_ he finished rather lamely, not finding the right words he wanted.

But Althea brightened up.

"Really? You think so? Do you think Warrior'll let me hunt with you when I grow older?" she asked, excited.

Lynex nodded his ebony-haired head solemnly. Though Warrior's true name was unknown, Althea's name for him stuck, so now he too called the Wraith leader Warrior. Wraith names was their own individuality. The lower ranked one was, the less important to keep their name secret. The higher ranked, the more important of maintained secrecy. For example: Warrior didn't know the Hive Keeper's name, but she knew his. Warrior knew all the names of the inner circle but they didn't know his, since he was the eldest and most powerful. Below the inner circle, none knew their names.

Lynex nodded his agreement. _"I'm sure he will, Little Dagger. I can feel it. He can't possible leave you here."_

Again Althea felt a glow of warmth that she extended to her friend. She controlled the urge to hug him, knowing it would embarrass him and make the other children gawk. Besides, affection was unseemly and unsettling. It was only within the privacy of their quarters did they share affection to one another.

But the feeling was cut off when a loud snarl of displeasure came from the back of the room. Althea and Lynex both quickly turned their heads, just in time to see the caretaker cuff Morgar sharply across the head. _Morgar must have gotten in trouble,_ Althea thought smugly. It felt good to watch him get scolded instead of her. _Whatever it was, I hope he deserves it._

The caretaker proceeded to reprimand the culprit, shielding the younger child that had been on Morgar's foul side. Morgar stood still and rigid, not making an effort to shield himself against the clouts. That would mean a worse punishment for him if he fought back.

As a custom all the other children stopped and watched, learning in their own way from Morgar's actions and that they weren't to be repeated.

But when the caretaker, satisfied she had made her point, turned away, Morgar turned around and noticed Althea watching. It didn't matter that all the other children had watched his scathing rebuke. _She_ saw him.

The ugly little interloper had seen him scolded just like a child. It was the final crushing blow to his tender ego. All the day's frustrations overflowed, and flaunting conventions on purpose, he directed a malevolent glare at the girl he detested.

_ What did I do now?_ thought Althea in exasperation. She rolled her eyes and turned away. This always happened to her. She just never seemed to be good enough. Why did he always pick on her?

Perhaps it was the cold, tense look in Lynex's eyes that made her turn around. Perhaps it was a sixth sense. What ever it was, she looked behind her and found Morgar leering down at her, a sneer on his face.

_ "You've got something better to do, Morgar?" _said Lynex coolly, never taking his eyes off the aggressive Wraith. _"Little Dagger and I were just talking."_

_ "I'm sure you were,"_ said Morgar, glaring down at Althea with unmasked contempt. _"You always amaze me, Lynex—talking with our would-be prey?"_

Althea felt her face flush with anger at his cruel words, feeling a retort itch on her lips. Warrior told her to learn to ignore them, but with Morgar, everything seemed so hard to ignore. The slur on her was almost too great to bear. Of all the lessons she was taught, she still had to fully obey this one.

Lynex quickly caught Althea's crumbling control and said swiftly to Morgar, _"Leave us alone. We did nothing to you."_

_ "I'll leave you alone . . . after 'Little Dagger' gives me a drink of water."_ 'Althea' was said with oozing sarcasm, biting and stinging. Morgar crossed his arms over his chest and stepped back, enjoying the fact it was his right she had to obey him.

Lynex could only watch on helplessly. Althea was given a request; he couldn't interfere.

She knew she should obey Morgar. She knew she shouldn't let him get to her. She knew she was supposed to be respectful, but her own frustration overflowed. For years this had been going on, going deeper and deeper, growing in tension time and time again. Just like a volcano. She knew Warrior would disapprove.

But she was nine years old.

A rising surge of anger flushed her cheeks even more. She felt humiliated by the stares all the children were giving her, shamed in front of the whole nursery and Lynex, and furious at Morgar for causing it. She got up, but not with the usual quick jump to obey his command. Slowly, insolently, she shot Morgar a look of cold hatred before she moved away.

How did she dare to behave with such brazenness?

Morgar exploded in a rage. He sprang after her, spun her around, and plowed his fist in to her face. It knocked her to the ground at his feet and he followed with another smashing blow. She cowered, trying to protect herself with her arms as he hit her again and again. She fought to voice no sound. Morgar's fury mounted with his violence; he wanted to hear her cry out and rained down one crashing blow after another in his uncontrolled rage. She gritted her teeth, steeling herself to the pain, stubbornly refusing to give him the satisfaction he wanted.

Suddenly the beating stopped when Lynex shoved Morgar away with his own strength. Caught flat-footed at this unexpected attack, Morgar fell away with surprise on his face. Lynex stood over him, cold fury of his own on his face. He stood over Althea protectively.

Althea slowly got to her feet, wiping a thin thread of copper-tasting blood from the corner of her mouth. She felt afraid and hateful at Morgar; she hadn't expected such a reaction. By now the caretaker stormed up, sharply gripping Morgar and Lynex by the ears. With a snort she turned her back to Althea and proceeded to punish Lynex and Morgar for their actions.

The unfairness of it all crashed down on Althea—Lynex had been protecting her. But the humiliation and soreness was too great. She ran out of the nursery. She ran all the way up to Warrior's quarters, stopping a lot because of the hurt her body gave her. She would be covered with bruises, despite Morgar's child's strength.

Finally Althea ran into the room and found Warrior sitting on the ground, in his 'meditating' pose, staring straight at nothing.

"Warrior! Morgar beat me today," she said, running up to him. She approached the sitting Wraith. He made no response, didn't even bother to shrug her away. He just stared into the distance, cold and aloof. She shrunk back.

_ "You only got what you deserved,"_ he said with a grim scowl. His eyes were hard. _"Don't bother me. Go find worthwhile work to do, girl. I am meditating, and have no time with insolent females,"_ he said.

Tears filled her eyes. She was hurt and suddenly a little frightened of the Wraith. He wasn't the Wraith she knew and loved anymore. He was the Leader. For the first time since she came to live with the clan, she understood why everyone else kept their distance from him and stood in awe and fear of the great leader. He had withdrawn from her. With a look and a few words, he conveyed disapproval and a sense of rejection stronger than she had ever felt. He didn't love her anymore. She wanted to hug him, to tell him she loved him, but she was afraid.

Backing up, confused and hurt, tears welling in her eyes, Althea rushed out of the organic doors, suddenly needing to get away. Get away from Warrior, away from this Hive, everything. She needed to be alone, and tears blurred her path the entire way down.

.s.

_ It's all Morgar's fault,_ she thought bitterly as she hugged herself by the small stream Warrior would always bring her. Why does he always pick on her? What did she ever do to him? He never has liked her.

But what about Warrior? Althea was overcome with guilt and fear. He wouldn't send her away, would he? Who would take care of her? _I don't want to leave_, she thought, bursting into tears.

Guilt and anxiety were far heavier burdens than she had ever felt before as she huddled down in the moss-bed. She knew she should have listened to Morgar. Wasn't that what Warrior always said? Didn't he tell her again and again?

She continued to stared at the water while the dismal events of the day marched through her mind in woeful procession, not realizing when tears started to flow. She was afraid, but more, she was lonely. It was night now, and she hadn't spent a night alone since Warrior took her. Finally exhaustion closed her eyes, but bad dreams disturbed her sleep. She called out for Warrior, and she called out for another man in a language all but forgotten. But there was no one to comfort the desperately, achingly, lonely girl.

.s.

The next morning was bright, the dawn coloured sky pastel pink and vibrant yellow. The still-visible stars glistened overhead in the great dome of the sky, little lights against the two lilac-coloured moons. There was a fog rolling in, wafting off the little stream. Birds called above her.

All this was lost to the girl as she thought hard and long, staring at the waters. She felt really hungry but her hunger was ignored as she thought of what to do. Determination was her food now, filling her. She had adapted through many things, why not this too? So Morgar hated her and tried to make her life miserable.

But there was Lynex. There was Warrior. There were so many other good things besides just him. Althea stared intensely at the stream.

"That's it! That's what I'll do," she said out-loud, firming her resolution. The river gave her the answer. If Morgar hated her so much, then what would happen if she ignored him? Listen to his demands but let it flow like the river in front of her?

Althea felt happy as she got up from her still-warm pocket in the moss. She nodded to herself with conviction. She would have to learn self-control if she wanted to beat him. Yes, best him, get better than him, show that he didn't faze her. Her body was still bruised and sore from yesterday, but her spirit remained subdued. She would learn from her mistakes.

With that in mind, Althea walked back to the Hive.

.s.

The way Althea walked back to the Hive was different, though he couldn't quiet say what was different about it. It wasn't less proper, it just seemed easier, not as tense, and there was a look of acceptance on the girl's face. Not resignation, just acceptance.

Warrior was aware of her inward struggle, but he knew it was not only necessary to bend to Morgar's will, she had to stop fighting it. She had to learn self-control, too.

He had been harsh. He wanted—no, _needed_—to make his point. He had always been aware that she had such difficulty obeying Morgar, and the two butted heads all the time. Now they've reached breaking point. If he waited too long in scolding her, soon Morgar would have the powerful body of an adult male, dangerous to her if she rebelled then. She should be taught her lesson now before it was too late.

Althea shuffled slowly toward the Wraith, nervously looking down at her feet. She stood in front of him, then looked up with sad round eyes, wet with tears.

"I'll be good from now on," she said. "You're not mad anymore?"

_ "No, my little one, I'm not mad. But you belong to the Hive now. You belong to me. You must learn the tongue and our ways." _The stoic Wraith's eyes softened as he knelt down to her level. _"Do you understand?"_

Althea felt such a rush of relief that she continued to cry. This was the Wraith she knew and loved: this was her Warrior, not the cold and aloof leader the day before.

Warrior gently brushed her wet left cheek, the one with the still-visible four parallel scars. The simple movement caused the girl to break into a smile, reach out and hugged him, then crawled into the lap of the Wraith and snuggled close, her emotions and body worn.

The Wraith just looked on with almost comical confusion as the girl fell asleep curled up between his legs and rested on his stomach.

…

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…

Criticism welcomed.


	8. Grown Up

**A.N—**Edited 6/10/10.

.

"Grown Up"

.s.

_ Nine years later . . . _

Althea gripped the smooth, black burnished hilts of her practice blades, trying to control her breathing. She circled around, in firm control over her taunt muscles. Without taking her eyes off her opponent, she tested her footing and ground, her toes kneading the grassy soil. She seemed if anything to be moving slowly, almost as if in a trance. It was the pre-fight concentration of a true fighter, the fighter who makes his moves without conscious thought.

She was clad in a leather hunting outfit. A piece of rawhide tied back her hair. Sweat glistened off her brow as the sun shone down.

Lynex, clad in a casual leather hunting uniform for adolescents, mimicked her movements. He never let his eyes off of her, testing his own footing. Now nearly nineteen human years, his hair was changing from the childhood black to silky white. His claws were developing and his voice had now richened to a smooth rumble. He was tall now, nearly a foot taller than Althea's respectable height. His body was toned and as taunt as a cabled wire. Male Wraith genetics allow their kind to all have the same tight muscular build—since they didn't eat solid foods, they didn't have to worry about the whole calorie intake and nutrition and cholesterol issue.

Wraith and human glared at each other, circling like wolves, their eyes keen for the smallest opening. Suddenly Althea attacked with her blades, one in each hand, feinting to the right. Lynex anticipated the attack and spun away, parrying one of her lashing blades with natural ease. Without pause Althea cut her body to the left, this time aiming one blade to his knees and using the other to block his next lighting-flash downward strike.

The sound of the wood hitting together in the early morning stillness was loud to the ears. Althea sprang away, light on her toes. Lynex walked back, breathing calm, eyes alive and intense. They circled again, each seeking an opening.

This time it was Lynex who struck first, aiming to drive her back. He was astonishingly graceful, each strike beginning and ending with an unhurried ease. Althea recognized his intent as if she knew in advance all that was to come and rolled away to avoid a thrice-assault attack.

_ Dock, dock, dock!_

Althea's wooden blades met his sticks again. Together they flew at each other, their rhythmic thunk of wood upon wood echoing off the surroundings. They circled and spun, each flying in wide arcs and high blows. It was as if the two combatants have rehearsed and practiced the moves; each movement in sync with each other.

The formal sequences of strike, parry, riposte, and counterstrike were unfolded, a true master class in the high art. The tempo and fury increased. Now the moves were flowing at dazzling speed, quick, tight moves that were over before you could track then, each blow delivered before the mind of the fighter could calculate its effect, following patterns of combat in which both fighters had been drilled.

The wood sang as it just touched each other, wasting no power on fruitless thrusts. Faster and faster now, turning, leaping, the fighters were as if possessed.

Althea parried and dodged most of Lynex's blows, on defensive this time. She grunted with exertion and rolled again, successfully w Lynex just below the kneecaps with a mild force.

Lynex hardly even paused as he used his superior position to pin Althea to the ground, using his powerful strength to hold her wrists to the ground. The swiftness of it took Althea's breath away as she found that she was stuck to the ground, a slightly panting Wraith straddling her stomach.

"Alright, alright, you win thistime," said Althea, unable to keep a grin off her face after vainly struggling. "But don't get too comfortable, Lynex."

Lynex smirked. _"By the time that comes around, I'll be so used to victory I'll be looking forward to the change."_

Althea laughed and suddenly heaved her body to the side on the ground. Her movement caught Lynex by surprise as he suddenly found himself with Althea on top of him, now her pinning him to the ground.

"How's that, Lynex?"

_ "Nice trick. But you distracted me."_

"Consider it my advantage. How can I help it?" said Althea in a teasing voice as she got off the Wraith. Lynex stood, looking at her from the corner of his eye as he brushed pieces of grass off his leather outfit.

_ "You know I let you win, right?"_

Althea shrugged with a grin, then got up as well, wiping the sweat off her brow with a soft animal hide. She looked at the morning sun. She and Lynex had been sparring since dawn, practicing on their skills in combat. She loved the exercise, and Lynex was a wonderful teacher. Ever since Warrior began introducing her to the art of a hunter and fighter, Lynex had been by her side the whole way. While it was Warrior who taught her the basics, it was Lynex who fine tuned them. Then it was Warrior who tested them on a weekly basis.

At first Althea treated the whole deal as a source of entertainment and fun; later one she realized the purpose of the instructions. If she ever wanted to become something greater than the lowest of the low, she would have to learn to hunt and fight. Skill in hunting, tracking and self-discipline were the measure of manhood in the clan that depended on cooperation for survival as well as personal ranking.

The better the hunter, the higher the status. In the Wraith social hierarchy, there was the Queen, the Leaders, then the best hunters of the clan. The better the hunter, the better the chance they would provide the Hive with more humans. Most of the time some of the best hunters became Leaders themselves.

And as Althea grained skill tracking, learned to move with stealth, trained her eye to discern a shape within its camouflaged cover, her ranking increased amongst Wraith adolescents. Already she was one of the best younglings of the Hive at track-and-hunt, thanks to her determination, dedication and teachers.

Learning had not been easy. Warrior would have to teach her outside for hours at a time, explaining patiently the lore of the hunt and chase. He would have her study marks and trails closely, testing her knowledge every so often. He questioned her constantly, driving the information into her skull. Althea in turn listened with rapt attention, always attentive and fascinated. With her eager willingness and Warrior's patience, her skill grew and her knowledge increased.

Later, when she had learned enough of the basics, Warrior graduated her to live creatures. Animals were quick and elusive, and moving targets far more difficult to track and hunt than stationary ones. Through trial and error she learned to track better and better. Her eye soon was trained to pick up small details, to define the meanings in the telltale droppings of an animal, a faint print in the dust, a bent blade of grass or broken twig. She learned eventually to move noiselessly, and could melt into a shadow if something happened to glance her way in such a way that Warrior was pleased.

Althea had changed. She was growing up. As her hunting skill grew, she developed an assurance and sinewy grace. She had the silent walk of an experienced hunter, a tight muscular control of her young body, a confidence in her own reflexes, and a far-seeing eye.

Masculinity was measured by stoic endurance among the Wraith. Warrior admired courage, determination, endurance; they showed strength of character. In spite of the fact that Althea was a human, Warrior admired her grit as he watched her develop from a child to a young woman.

.s.

There came a time when her 'lessons' with the adolescent Wraith extended to outdoor chases and stalking _her_. It was then where Althea had to run into the woods and try to evade the Wraith following her. Practice, Warrior had said. For the adolescents for when they grew up to track down hidden humans. But for her, it was practice of eluding and outfoxing the hunter. She learned to stay stationary for hours at a time, not moving an inch, then suddenly spring away and double-tracking and crossing streams until she had lost her pursuer.

Whenever Lynex was the chosen one to hunt her, it was then Althea felt the most competitive. Because he was her friend, he was the one she wanted to impressive the most besides Warrior. He was the one whom she wanted to best, and he was just as stubborn and determined as her.

Once, on a chase, they spent two whole days outdoors until finally Lynex finally caught up to her and brought her back to the Hive.

But not all was easy.

Back at the Hive, her daily ordeal of clouts and curses and constant harassment from Morgar continued. She endured without complaint. The more he badgered her, the more determined she would be in tormenting him by 'ignoring' and making Warrior proud. Even Morgar could find only so many tasks before there were none left. Besides, she was genuinely unmoved. He could do nothing to disturb her. He could cuff and curse and work himself up to the edge of explosive violence. It had absolutely no effect. She excluded him from her responses. As time went along, he got a little bored; there wasn't any fight in her anymore, and the intensity of his harassment slackened.

She grew to hate Morgar even more intensely, but she learned she could cope with him. He had thrown his worst at her and she learned to take it in stride. Besides, Morgar's taunts' effectiveness had long since worn thin from overuse, and little could ruffle her placid composure only around him. There was a limit beyond which even Morgar could not go. And learning how to fight and track and hunt helped; she loved it. The more she learned, the more she wanted to learn.

It was Lynex who taught her the joys of sparring, and essentially built up her foundation to her level of where she was now. She was the second-ranked adolescent—an excellent tracker, hunter, and fighter. Her determination and stubbornness brought her far . . . and status. It had been Warrior's intention, from the start. He knew from experience Althea's inner strength and boldness as well was willpower.

"Let's call it a morning," Althea said, her breathing now returning to normal.

Lynex nodded in agreement. _"Yes. We've practiced enough."_

Althea went to go pick up her practice blades and then jogged up to walk by Lynex's side. The two friends walked back to the Hive in a comfortable silence, each in their own thoughts.

.s.

Warrior met her when she entered his quarters.

_ "Go outside for a while, Little Dagger. Come back at sunhigh when you are done."_

Althea frowned lightly at the strange instructions.

"Of course, Warrior . . . but may I have the boldness as to ask why?"

_ "No, you don't . . . yet. I'll tell you when you get back."_

Althea snorted lightly, mimicking Warrior exactly. If there was something she had learned about Warrior, it was that he could be so secretive sometimes.

.s.

Althea wandered over the wooded slopes until midmorning. When she realized how late it was getting, she headed purposefully toward the Hive. As she neared, she heard activity and an occasional voice, and caught a glimpse of some adolescent males within the clearing. She started to leave since she didn't know she would be welcomed, but suddenly felt curious. Maybe they won't stay long. I wonder what they're doing anyway, she thought. Quietly, she crept in closer and hid behind a large tree, peeking out through the tangled bare brush.

The males were practicing with their weapons in preparation for a hunt. A hunt? Are they going hunting? Hunting what? Althea was suddenly filled with questions. After a second, she realized that Warrior was there, talking to a group of attentive adolescents. As if teaching.

Teaching what? _I_ _wonder why Warrior asked me to wander around instead of occupying him here_.

She watched closely, as if the answer would appear if she just paid attention. She squinted. Was that . . .? Yes, it was! Lynex was there, handsome and lithe as always. But who was he talking to? Oh . . .

_ Morgar._

Suddenly Althea felt uneasy at her hidden observing. What if she would be caught? Oh, he would gloat most viciously if she was caught and scolded. Should she turn back now and go around?

Althea was torn between staying and leaving when suddenly she noticed the conversation between the two grew heated. Althea watched with growing anger as Morgar walked right up to the smaller Wraith. Wraith, when irked or in an aggressive mood, would first come up close to intimidate.

Althea had to restrain herself as suddenly Morgar shoved Lynex hard. Lynex, unbalanced and caught off guard, fell down.

Morgar was almost as surprised as Lynex at his own rashness, and as soon as he realized what he had done, his face flushed a deeper shade with embarrassment.

_ "Morgar!" _

The word came out of the Warrior's mouth in a restrained roar.

Morgar looked up and cringed in time to see the Wraith leader approach him, eyes blazing and teeth bared. A bone-shattering clout threw Morgar down to the ground. He remained there, the submissive. Warrior leaned over him in dominance far longer than he had to. At last, satisfied, the elder Wraith turned and walked away, nonchalant and ignoring the younger Wraith on the ground, as if nothing had ever happened.

Morgar was mortified. He had never been shamed so severely, and in from the hunters. He wanted to run and hide; he'd never be able to live it down. He would rather face an entire score of Lanteans than Warrior's anger—Warrior, who seldom showed his anger, who seldom had to. One penetrating look from the leader, who commanded with stoic dignity, capable of leadership, and unswerving self-discipline, was enough to make any member of his clan jump to obey him. Morgar hung his head submissively.

The rest of the Wraith followed Warrior back to the Hive, Lynex somewhere in the middle, walking with nothing severer than a bruised ego and Morgar bringing up the rear, shamefully keeping his head down.

Althea crouched unmoving within the thicket, rooted to the spot, hardly daring to breath. She was petrified for fear they would see her now. The male Wraith, no matter what the provocation, maintained a brotherhood of solidarity around children, younger adolescents and females. But the episode had open the young woman's eyes to a side for the Wraith she never realized existed. They were not the all-powerful, free agents who reigned with impunity, as she had once thought. They too had to follow orders and they too could be reprimanded. Warrior alone seemed to be the one omnipotent figure who ruled supreme within them. She didn't understand that Warrior was under constraints far more binding than any of the others: the Hive Keeper had to be kept pleased, the traditions and customs of the Clan had to maintained, and his own sense of responsibility for his people.

.s.

"Alright, I'm back now, Warrior." Althea put on a brave front, forcing herself not to act as if she had seen Warrior severely rebuke Morgar. She had to act as if she didn't know it happened.

Warrior, to her relief, must have cooled down because there was no anger on his face nor posture.

_ "I see that. Here, I have something for you."_

"For me?" said Althea doubtfully. What could it possibly be? But Warrior offered her no answers as the tall Wraith took a lump of supple leather in his hands off a desk and gave it too her.

_ "Here. You'll need these," _he said as she took them.

"Warrior, what . . . oh . . ." Althea's eyes shone as she unfolded the last layers of the leather to reveal two magnificent ornate blades. Their hilts were polished ebony with a single ruby stone at the top, with flourishing silver lines weaved within the hilt. The swooping blades themselves were sharper than razors, honed to deadly sharpness. They were about a foot and a half each length, not including the hilt.

The very sight of them took her breath away.

"Oh Warrior . . . it's too much . . ."

At this Warrior chuckled lightly, as if pleased by her reaction. _"I've seen you improve, Little Dagger. You are worthy of them now."_

He coughed, now trying to find a more serious tone, failing halfway since his eyes were still amused. _"Pack your hunting clothing and anything you might need. We leave in an hour. The ship will be waiting by the platform."_

"Where are we going?"

_ "Questions for later, Little Dagger."_

"Yes, Warrior," Althea said. Again, if she knew Warrior well, he would tell her all she needed to know later.

Were they going on a hunt?

…

…

…

…

Criticism welcomed.


	9. Purpose Revealed

**A.N—**Edited 6/10/10

.

"Purpose Revealed"

.s.

_ On the ship two hours later . . ._

Althea sat on her bed in her own personal quarters, held in rapt fascination at the sight just beyond the window in front of her. She had the best view since nearly the entire outer wall was entirely window. They were in hyperspace now, everything a blur of purple, black and white. Althea was besides herself with excitement, but kept it within herself like a Wraith. Though her face remained impassive, her eyes were alive.

The organic doors opened and Althea struggled not to whip her head around to betray her taunt nerves. She couldn't help but smiled brightly when Lynex appeared on silent feet, eyes hooded and adorned in a hunting garment.

"What's with the leather, Lynex?" she asked as he sat down besides her.

_ "Your guess is as good as mine, Little Dagger," _rumbled Lynex, casting her an amused look. _"I was just about to say the same with your blades I almost sat on."_

"Oh! Sorry about that," apologized Althea hastily as she took the beautifully ornate blades off from the bed and placed them on the small membranous table right next to her. "I forgot they were there and this unexpected visit . . . _well . . ._"

Lynex rolled his eyes.

_ "I should have know by now your forgetfulness, Little Dagger."_

"And I should know by now your obvious lack of observations," said Althea. "It would look funny for you to have two new cuts in your leather, wouldn't it now, Lynex?"

Lynex mock-growled in anger as he lightly cuffed her.

_ "I should expect more respect toward your betters and superiors, insolent female!"_

"Ha! That's a good one—and just who beat you at last practice?" shot back the young woman as, laughing, cuffed him back over his head. "Now that I'm utterly insolent, what are you going to do about it now, huh?"

The two of them went through a bout of shoving and pushing playfully until Lynex finally caught her wrists and firmly held her down on the bed. Althea struggled briefly but his grip was too strong. Lynex narrowed his eyes smugly when she ceased resisting.

_ "Now what are _you _going to do about _this?_"_

The husky, cobwebby masculine scent was overpowering and having a heady effect on her that wasn't entirely undesirable. She had never been so close to those green-almost-black eyes.

"This."

Smiling wickedly, Althea jabbed an index finger in the centre of one of the Wraith's palms—just where he was ticklish. As she predicted, Lynex yelped and jerked back, freeing her.

Althea sat up again, swaying only slightly as the blood rushed to her head when she got up too fast.

Lynex continued to massage his palm.

_ "You __know__ I'm ticklish there, Little Dagger," _he growled.

Althea shrugged in an offhand manner. She cast him a teasing eye. "Consider it your weakness from now on, Lynex."

The Wraith snorted, turning his head to look out beyond the window. Althea followed his gaze and the two companions—Wraith and human—zoned out, each in their own thoughts. The low hum of the ship's internal mechanics filtered through the background noise and vibrated lightly on the floor, unimportant against the deadly beauty of space.

After an unknown period of time elapsed, Althea glanced at Lynex.

"May I see your hand, Lynex?"

At this Lynex gave her a _'don't-you-dare-try-anything-you-will-regret'_ look that spoke for him. But he good-naturedly consented, allowing her to pull the hand close to her. He watched as she frowned, lightly tracing the inconspicuous slit in his hand.

"It's grown since I've last saw it. Are you going to feed when we reach the planet?" she asked as he gently withdrew his hand again.

_ "If that is Warrior's plan . . . then I hope so." _Lynex hesitated slightly. _"This is my first outing, and I am eager to prove myself."_

"Prove yourself?"

Lynex looked at her briefly and then looked away again, as if embarrassed by his acknowledgment. It would be later when Althea learned that male Wraith are very secretive of their accomplishments and very proud creatures—they hate admitting or confessing anything that might lower their status or confessing a lack of experience in anything.

_ "Yes. You must understand that the transition from adolescence and adulthood is marked by the first successful hunt and feeding of a human caught by themselves—not from the Hive's stores like a just-maturing child."_

Althea clucked her tongue in understanding. At least that answers half the question of why he was coming . . . but what about her? She didn't have the ability nor the power to feed like they did. What would this mean? Would she remain in a limbo of not child but not fully adult either? Would she _ever_ receive her adult leather garb like what Warrior wore?

Those thoughts sobered her slightly.

She was silent as long as she could contain it, but in the end blurted, "Lynex, why do you think Warrior brought me?"

Lynex pursed his lips over his sharp teeth, the hooded look coming to his eyes.

_ "I wouldn't expect you to know this, Little Dagger . . . but lately . . ."_

He paused, as if grouping for the right words. Althea waited patiently.

_ "To understand fully," _Lynex tried again, starting off on another track, _"everything happened nearly two years ago. A group of humans found the damnable Lantean City and awoke all of the Wraith in the galaxy."_

Althea nodded agreeably enough. She remembered Warrior leaving for a long three days for a talk to the Hive Queen when something occurred . . . could it have been that?

_ "Well . . . with all the Wraith awaken . . . there isn't enough food to go around. Rationing has occurred amongst the Hives; the weak are oppressed and the strong live. Those with lower statuses are weeded out. Battles break out over even the most minor of cullings. It is a major risk even to cull a planet now of humans."_

Althea felt the seriousness of the dilemma and nodded her understanding again with solemnity. This was a major problem if there would be no solution. Even before the Awakening, there were already rivalries amongst the Wraith.

But now . . .

_ "But Warrior has a plan, and has premeditated_ _in testing it out."_

Hope blossomed within Althea. "Has a plan? What kind of a plan?"

Lynex smirked lightly. _"You'll find out all in good time."_

Althea mimicked the sound of an irritated Wraith perfectly as she punched his shoulder.

"You can be so irritating!"

_ "And you can be so bold! Ack," _he snorted as he effortlessly blocked her other punch. _"Save your strength, Little Dagger, when we land on the surface!"_

"We're landing?" echoed Althea, startled into ceasing her attack. Althea sighed wistfully. "To another planet, Lynex. I don't I've been on another planet since . . ." She frowned, trying to remember. Here her memories merged and blended, one giant mound of buried pictures. "Since . . . I don't remember when, but it must have been a _long_ time."

_ "Well, you'll get used to it quick."_

Althea cocked an eyebrow.

"Now, is this from experience?"

_ "No, just common sense," _Lynex quickly defended, knowing full well that she knew this was his first outing. Despite the fact that Althea was his friend, it still felt uncomfortable that _he_ had never experienced an 'offworld' experience.

_ "But I will definably get used to the leather when we'll return,"_ Lynex mused. _"Adult clothing . . ."_

Althea's secret desire to dress like Warrior resurfaced, but even to Lynex to spoke not a word. Besides, he would laugh at her dream. He wouldn't understand. Warrior looked so handsome decked in the supple hunting leather. She couldn't wait until she looked like him.

.s.

The cruiser continued its course for three other days, stopping for nothing. During that time Althea sparred with Lynex down in the training pits, using the time to prepare herself physically. When not practicing, she mentally prepared herself for what would come, resting in her quarters and contemplating as she polished and washed her twin blades. She still didn't know her reason on the ship since Warrior didn't make his appearance to her nor did Lynex loosen his tongue.

It was when the usual purplish blur of hyperspace disappeared and was replaced with inky darkness around the milky-splattered stars of space did she know that they were close. Instantly her stomach tightened and knotted with apprehension and excitement. This was it! Althea couldn't help but feel giddy, though she outwardly remained calm. Self-control . . . remember self-control . . .

"Yeah, right," Althea snorted to herself, biting her lower lip in excitement. She couldn't help it. The whole _idea_ was intoxicating . . .

But humans. They would be hunting _humans,_ a treacherous voice whispered at the nape of her mind.

But Althea pushed it away. True a small bubble of unknown guilt surfaced faintly, but her allegiance and devout loyalty belonged to the Wraith—especially to Warrior and Lynex. It was they who taught her, fed her, clothed her, cared for her . . . not those silent, worn corpses. Even though she was like them physically, she was raised as a Wraith.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when suddenly the organic doors opened and Lynex beckoned her with a, _"Warrior would see you, Little Dagger."_

_ He would see me? Why? Is this about the hunt?_ Althea's thoughts raced as she followed Lynex down the dark blue corridors, which were lit by membranous yellow or blue lights. They passed a few bone-faced Wraith and one or two fully adult normal Wraith. Where were the other adolescents? thought Althea as she passed through another hallway, close behind Lynex.

She stopped when Lynex suddenly halted before a set of double organic doors.

_ "Warrior is within. I'll be with the others. You can meet up with us when he is finished with you."_

"Yes, Lynex," said Althea, taking a deep breath before entering the leader's quarters. After a quick search with her eyes, she noticed Warrior cinching on the last of his belt. His long white hair were tucked behind his ears and tied in a plain horsetail by a piece of rawhide. His long trench-coat leg covering, worn after years of use, shone against the dark blue lights.

His back was turned to her, so Althea respectfully waited by the door, quiet.

_ "Come here so I may see you closer, Little Dagger,"_ Warrior rumbled, still not turning around as he placed on his wrist gauntlets.

Althea wordlessly obeyed him, walking at an angle so he could see her through his peripheral vision. She had learned early on that Wraith were paranoid at being crept on from behind, and deal with being startled very badly.

_ "Young Lynex must have told you by now why I've brought you, hasn't he?"_ he questioned when he finally turned to look at her face-to-face, his hands clasped behind his back. Althea had to look up at the Wraith leader.

"No, he hasn't. He kept telling me you would, Warrior," replied Althea, earning herself a faint chuckle.

_ "You kept your patience very well, might I note."_

The tips of her lips quirked slightly upward.

"It wasn't easy."

Warrior snorted lightly, but said, _"I have asked you here for that. Are you ready to learn your purpose?"_

Althea kept her face calm, though inside was jittery and apprehensive.

_ "You will lure males to our location."_

"Lure males?" blinked Althea, slightly taken back. She didn't know what to say. Did Wraith use decoys or lures on a hunt? Not to mention . . .

"Me, lure males? Warrior, its been . . . so long since I've _seen_ a human male apart from the Hive ones."

_ "Do as your instincts indicate, Little Dagger. You are female. Your body will take care of the details." _He paused, appraising her from behind his lashes that caused his half-asleep look. _"Or do you refuse?"_

"Of course not, Warrior," Althea said quickly. "It's just . . . I don't want to ruin the hunt."

At this Warrior chuckled deeply, reaching out to trace a claw against her jawline. _"You have yet to disappoint me, Little Dagger. You will not displease me now," _he said.

Althea felt the warmth from his compliment glow in her belly. Of course she wouldn't refuse him—she'll make him proud. But suddenly a question surfaced that she couldn't help but put out.

"But Warrior . . . why such small scale hunt from the usual planetary cullings? You would get more humans if you culled it instead of going after small groups."

Warrior appraised her again, cocking his head.

_ "Very good, Little Dagger. But the risk of a planet-wide culling would draw too much attention. We need now to retain our food through secrecy and cunning." _He shook his head, snorting more loudly this time.

_ "If it wasn't for those damn humans in the Lantean City, this wouldn't have happened. Now look. We are reduced to hunting in concealment."_

Althea couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry. Would these events affect her in the future? Would it make her life more difficult? What if her clan couldn't feed anymore! What would Warrior or Lynex do . . .? The thought of just losing one of them made her throat tighten and eyes sting.

_ "Do you still have the blades I gave you?" _Warrior asked suddenly, drawing her away from inner turmoil.

She quickly blinked away any betraying moistness in her eyes and answered in a steady voice, "Of course, Warrior. I carry with them now."

As proof, she showed him the blades—one on each leg—strapped to her waist in matching leather sheaths.

"I won't fail you, Warrior."

Warrior clucked with his tongue and, with a tilt of his head, beckoned her to—she supposed—follow him where the other adolescent Wraith waited.

Closer to the hunt.

…

…

…

Criticism happily welcomed.


	10. Thunder and Rain

**A.N—**Edited 6/10/10 a little.

.

"Thunder and Rain"

.s.

Althea took a deep breath and walked down the plank. She wore her own personal adolescent hunting garb, which consisted nothing more than a long black leather loincloth which left both outside parts of the legs exposed and a tight fitting bra-top armor ending at the second-to-last rib. Unlike normal leather which causes friction with the skin that will result in painful upper wounds and scabs that could leave very ugly permanent scars, Wraith leather had durable padding beneath that protected the skin. It was almost as if she couldn't feel it, it was so comfortable. Besides, it was light-weight, tough and long-lasting—the perfect hunting clothing.

She wore leather wrist gauntlets like the rest of the Wraith. Her tawny hair was tied back Wraith-style, her bangs out of the way and hair loose over her back. At her waist hung her beautiful blades—one on each side of her thighs—from leather sheaths.

Though she had liked the trip over to this planet—Wraiths didn't name their feeding grounds—she couldn't help but feel a little relived. She found it difficult to trust air she couldn't see. When a small breeze gently caressed her face, she couldn't help but close her eyes and inhale deeply.

It smelt differently than on the homeworld. The usual dominant smells of pine needles and fir sap weren't there. Instead, they were replaced with deciduous forest loam and soil. Even the landscape was different; what used to be coniferous forest now were home to aspen, oak and maple.

She walked across the clearing that a smaller scout ship had landed in, to the cluster of other adolescent males on their first hunt. There were seven in all, each flexing their hands or rolling their shoulders. A tense eagerness hung palpably in the air. Lynex was already there, listening to Warrior's 'first hunt' speech. Though by the time she reached them Warrior had finished, turning away in thought.

"What did I miss?" she asked Lynex as he double checked his pistol version of a stunner.

"Just that if things go wrong, we are expected to do the honorable thing and blow ourselves up rather than be taken," he said, re-rechecking his weapon.

"Oh," Althea said, blinking. Well, that answered a few questions. Blow up? Why would they have such devices? Nothing bad would happen on this hunt . . . would it? At least, nothing that was caused by her. Althea strove to quell her own sense of apprehensive excitement. Whatever she did, she better not mess up.

_ Your body will indicate your responses._

Can that be true, despite the fact she had never seen a live human male?

Well, if Warrior said so, then it must be true.

Althea cast an eye to the tall, stoic leader. He still seemed deep in thought, his back turned to the students.

_ "You better not mess this hunt for us," _sneered a shadow behind her nastily, causing Althea to turn quickly, startled.

"It wouldn't be my intention, Morgar," Althea said respectively, hiding her flush of irritation behind a cool, emotionless mask. Just great. Now on top of risking Warrior's displeasure, she would have Morgar to look out for.

_ "But it would be mine to make sure it wouldn't happen again," _the yellow-eyed Wraith said, glaring down at her.

To her credit, Althea merely bowed her head again submissively instead of show anything.

"Yes, Morgar."

The Wraith snorted scornfully before whirling away deep into the throng of other adolescents. Althea hissed softly in annoyance but cut it short as Warrior gave a full-throated bark to get everyone's attention.

_ "The ship's sensors picked up several small settlements in the vicinity of thirty miles. The nearest one is seven miles away. It is the plan to strike this settlement and bring back our prizes to the scout ship." _Warrior paused, eyeing each of them in turn sternly. _"Each of you is allowed one kill before they're for the Hive. Only one."_

All bowed their heads in consent.

_ "Good. I will lead, but remember—stealth is the key. We don't want to alert any of the humans, and it would be a stupid waste of sacrificing yourselves at a clumsy stumble. I don't want the humans teeming all over the place."_

Warrior snorted in a pleased way when again the students bowed their heads before turning and setting a fast, ground-eating pace into a thicket of birch trees. At once, the seven adolescents loped quickly after him, Althea bringing up the rear. Her heart was already pounding with excitement and adrenaline. The hunt has begun! Seven miles is quite a bit, especially at Wraith-pace.

_ I just hope I have the energy to serve my Hive_, she thought, the one last desperate plea before blanking her mind for the long run.

.s.

It was when Warrior raised a clenched fist did the hunting party stop, right on the edge of a densely-packed deciduous forest. Althea felt her hot breath surge up and down her throat as she came to a stop herself.

Warrior continued to gaze out at the small, noisy human settlement just beyond the forest quietly, as if intrigued. The other adolescents followed his example, peering through the foliage, studying, still lightly panting at the long run.

Althea followed suite, her own fascination on a slightly different level. Warrior was teaching them by example.

_ Study your prey. Know their strengths. Their weaknesses . . . _

But these were humans. Humans! _What odd primitive shelters_, she thought curiously, blinking the sweat from her eyes. What funny clothes, nothing like the delicate and durable Wraith leather. And they looked like her physically . . . same coloured skin, same hair-type . . .

Warrior rumbled lightly, causing her to quickly and silently flint to his side.

"Yes, Warrior?"

_ "Lead them here."_

That was all he said before backing further away into the brush. The other Wraith mimicked him, disappearing as well until she was all alone.

The big moment had come. Althea took a deep breath. Now it was her turn to play her part in this hunt. She turned her head to look back into the foliage, her keen eyes picking up green and yellow eyes.

Expecting.

Waiting.

Hungry.

Taking another deep breath she began to sneak through the foliage until she reached the camp. The smells assaulted her nose. Cooking fires, thick animal odor, spices and musky human scents.

Still in the forest, Althea scanned the surroundings and humans. Males, males. Which ones would be the best? Would they rise to the bait? _How about that group over there?_ she mused to herself, eyeing the loud and noisy group of males. They seemed to be picking on a group of flirtatious females, making strangely hollow laughing sounds compared to a Wraith's deep-throated laugh. The males continued their teasing, some growing bolder. The females were backing away, some of their playful mood evaporating.

Fascinating. Instead of Wraith males, who fight rivals for the choice females for pleasuring, these males seemed to work in a group to entice them. Must they work together to make a female approve of them?

Despite these questions, Althea remembered her task. Oddly, she felt no regret she steadied herself. These were prey, and she was the hunter. Besides, there was something about these males she didn't like. Maybe it was instinctive. Maybe it was their obvious behavior.

Very slowly she stood and boldly strode out into the open where some of the men would see her.

As the group of females moved away, the one who seemed to be the leader turned his head and saw her. He said something loudly to the other men and they all looked in her direction. Some seemed utterly shocked that she was standing before them, one hand on a hip, the smooth line of the throat curved, while others had hungry looks on their faces.

Still the men made no move, except for the leader. He was a cocky and jaunty fellow, but as Althea neared she could see his teeth were bad and eyes runny. He was a half a head shorter than her, but she still didn't like the way his eyes lit up and his licking of his lips. By now the other males were converging their leader. Althea's eyes flicked. Nine. If they circled and trapped her, she would be caught.

Clucking her tongue, she pranced just out of reach of their groping hands. She back-tracked toward the forest, all the while keeping an eye at any circling by the men. It was like luring catfish to candles.

The leader smiled again, but there was an impatience in his posture, an irritation she kept prancing out of his reaching. The other men now wanted their hands on this erotic, mysterious young woman before them and quickened their pace. Althea saw this and quickened her enticing.

Suddenly Althea flashed away into the forest, startling them with her quick escape when they were to touching distance. By now the leader was yelling at her and surged forth after her, the others close behind him.

When she got to the spot where she was supposed to be she stopped and faced the men chasing her. The small leader clamped a vise-like hand over her wrist, leering up to her. Althea looked down at him, a little afraid. She looked at the being who looked like her.

The men's eyes widened as blue blasts flew out of nowhere, stunning more than half into unconsciousness. Their heads turned in surprise, some just blinking their eyes stupidly like sheep. An enemy caught off guard is a fallen enemy, and they just proved it. The other eight just bleated and gasped in mortal terror, still confused by the swiftness of it all, as the Wraith descended upon them, each latching on their own prize. The one who had Althea by her wrist was torn away by none other than Lynex. The leader only managed a whimper of fear before Lynex snapped a hand back and pelted him, beginning to feed.

Althea swiftly got out of their way as they begun to feed, one hand on their chests and the other clamped over their mouths to muffle the screams.

Althea turned her face, still trying to calm her breathing from her sprint. The burst of adrenaline and breathlessness heightened her senses, but for some reason she couldn't watch the feasting. Perhaps an unknown guilt was beginning to bubble from the depths of her humanity. A movement from her left caused her to look up to see a pleased Warrior looking down at her. He inclined his head slightly, his eyes hooded.

_ "Very well done, my Little Dagger. You did well."_

"Anything for the Hive, Warrior," she replied respectfully, masking the lack of breath in her voice. _Anything for you,_ her mind whispered.

Warrior snorted lightly in approval. He looked at her a moment longer, pride and satisfaction unmasked on his face. Althea savored the warm glow of his gaze. It was a feeling she would never forget.

Warrior got up and moved back toward the stunned bodies, now putting small devices upon the still-unconscious bodies of the males. The adolescent Wraith quickly moved the dried carcasses up and out of their leader's way. Althea watched him curiously and said to Lynex when he finally walked over to her, "What's he doing?"

_ "Our scientists and technicians created them recently," _he said mildly, as if not a minute ago he was draining a man's life, slowly rubbing the hand that fed upon the man. _"They are designed to transport the energy signatures to—ah, there you go."_

In the same beaming flash that occurs under Dart ships, the three men suddenly disappeared.

"Where'd they go?" Althea asked, looking about. "Do they go on the ship we came on?"

_ "Yes. The devices only work on short-range still, but they transport the humans from one location to another . . . makes this sort of hunting easier."_

His voice trailed off. Althea's eye caught his rubbing motion and asked in awe, "Did you feed?"

Evident pride. _"Yes. Real human, fresh caught . . ." _Lynex sighed, as if a terrible burden had been lifted from his shoulders. It was now certain. He was adult. Everything was successful.

Althea just couldn't help but feel a little envious as she looked at Lynex's satisfaction, but her happiness for him veiled the feeling.

"Was it . . . good?"

Lynex opened one deep-green eye at her.

_ "It . . . it is a sensation that can be imagined, Little Dagger, but no possible way to be described. I . . . I felt what he felt for a moment, all his emotions and surges . . ."_

A funny look came in his eye as he gazed intently at her.

_ "He wanted you, you know. He hungered for you as I hunger for his life-force. He would have hurt you if he could."_

Althea knew that the human would have hurt her if he could—he and his fellows—but tried to make light of it by shrugging casually.

"I could have taken him out," she said. "I knew you'd come."

Lynex shrugged nonchalantly, as if it wasn't important. But when he got up and walked over to the other adolescents, Althea knew he cared. He would have ripped the man's arms off it he harmed her. Now thinking about it, Althea for the first time saw them as adults and hunters instead of her companions. Deadly predators instead of stoic Hivemates. _Would they be now different around me now that they've tasted their first real human? I wonder if they would still remember me when they move up in rank?_ But Lynex still remembered to speak with her. _Will I remain in limbo since I can't feed like them?_

But once again, Warrior seemed bent on not letting her finish her half-wisped thoughts as he growled, _"Move out, before the other humans know we are here. It's another six miles to the next one and I want to be there before next year."_

Like shadows, the Wraith got up to follow their leader back deeper into the rustling forest. Althea got up as well, mentally preparing herself for another run.

But into Morgar.

The Wraith leered down at her, wrinkling his nose disdainfully.

_ "So this time was a success, Lit-tle Da-gger," _he rumbled, voice dangerous, emphasizing her name scornfully. _"But just one slip, and you'll wish those humans would catch you rather than what I would do to you."_

Althea gazed back at him, unafraid, though somewhere deep inside of her desperately wanted to scream at him that she was doing her best—couldn't he see that? What put him so against her?

That and another part of her that just wanted to sink her blades into him, turning that condescending sneer into a grimace of agony. Stupid fool.

"Yes, Morgar," was all she said.

Morgar spat, just barely missing her foot, before whirling away to follow the others.

.s.

Althea lost count of how many villages they plagued. Time and time again Althea sauntered out of the forest, luring the unsuspecting victims. Through trial and error she discovered that the easier ones to lead tended to stay away from the centre of the settlement, always on the fringes of the outskirts. Always in a group and not the most attractive.

Though Althea wasn't allowed to spend time to truly study her look-alike species, she couldn't help but make quick observations. The loners seemed to be unwanted or undesired by the human settlement, and were easy targets for Althea and the Wraith. Females always traveled by two or a group, seldom alone. There were so many females. In Wraith society, there were one female to every seventy or so males—did they have a Keeper or Queen? Were all of them sly and more vicious than their male counterparts?

Althea couldn't help but wonder if she had been raised by humans whether or not she would act like them . . . or would she more Wraith-like? As far as she could remember she had always been around Wraith. But what if she had never picked up a blade, or fought against an opponent in the early dawn light? What if she was just a human, a primitive and simple human?

Or were they just simple? Were they more than just animals?

Althea couldn't help but sigh with frustration. If only time would only permit her to study them closer.

Althea once again slunk out of the forest, keeping an eye upon all the lounging males. Fourteen, fifteen . . . sixteen? Why such a large group of males? Was it their way, like wolves to be driven out when they got to a certain age?

Althea gave a soft whistle, earning her startled and the same, lustful stares. She smiled and slunk just out of their reach as one by one, they slowly made their way to her.

As with all the others, with time and patience she lured them right to where the Wraith waited. Their actions were as swift as fate as the humans were stunned into darkness. None escaped. While two of the adolescents were preparing the bodies to be beamed, Althea went to Lynex.

"Is that the last of the human settlements? It doesn't look like the weather is going to last here."

Her words were true since dark clouds appeared above the edges of the clearing. Late afternoon wind blew stronger, gusting now. Sun flickered and flared, back-lighting the shadowy thunderheads that moved to encircle it.

Lynex grunted agreement.

_ "That will be up to the Leader to decide."_

The two of them turned when Warrior growled against the rising wind whistling through the leaves and trees, _"The next encampment is not far from here. We will head there and then return back to the ship. This hunt is over."_

Althea exhaled softly to herself as she began her jogging after the Wraith. She now couldn't wait until they were back on the ship. In a warm bed, soft clothes . . . not that hunting had been fun, of course. Acting as a lure had been the most exciting and exotic moments of her life. She hadn't known better she couldn't help but admit she rather enjoyed it, but something kept bugging her, something that had her coloured skin and her coloured eyes.

.s.

By now, the wind blew steadily, grey clouds obscuring the sun as the Wraith and the young woman reached the clearing. The clearing itself lay in shadow, darkened by the forbidding thunderheads above them. The small, inconspicuous cluster of simple huts and lay before them. Only one or two humans, males, roamed about. Guards or sentries, perhaps.

Althea looked back to her fellow hunting companions. It was routine, by now. They waited in the foliage, waiting for her.

The wind quickened, humming , full of moisture. Stormclouds gusted around the sun at remarkable speed. Wind buffeted about now, stronger than ever. Thunder, close now, growled like a forest cat above her head. Althea gnawed on her bottom lip. These humans seemed to be peaceful and persuasive, but the forest was much closer than ever to the settlement. That would mean that the Wraith could be more easily seen. The nearest dwelling was so close that if she got up and slunk a few feet, she could have touched its grainy, brick-like side.

She took a deep breath before striding boldly out of the forest. She had hardly time to blink before a human male spotted her. Just one? Not as bountiful as the other settlements, but that was before this sudden turn of weather. She cocked her head at him, seemingly confident and careless but actually wary and ready. Something about him she didn't like.

Suddenly lightning clashed, followed by deafening thunder. The man hailed another in his strange but oddly familiar tongue, not taking his eyes off of her. Althea slitted her eyes. But with the others, their eyes lit with lust. This man's eyes seemed coldly interested, but lacking male instinct at seeing a suggestive body.

Or maybe it was just the weather.

But whatever it was, she shrugged it off, slinking mockingly away when three other males appeared, jerking slightly in surprise when they spied her. By now, rain spattered down, stinging as hailstones. The ozone scent of a surprise rain filled the air, prickling at her nose. Thunder crashed above her.

The four males followed her, growing bolder. One actually had a small grin on his face. Althea backed away, already close to the forest's edge that she only had to back up a few steps. The rain hammered down, hard and furious. Rolling thunder pealed overhead. The sting of ozone was stronger now.

Finally, the four males caught up to her, circling her. At once, the Wraith surged forth, ready to bring them down.

Suddenly lightning shattered the sky, cutting through the blinding downpour, lighting everything. Althea, having move to get out of the way, widened her eyes. There were more humans out there.

"No, it's a trap!" she cried out in warning, but wind stole her words. The treacherous wind lashed, flailing. Rain became a blind.

The Wraith were caught flat-footed as the waiting humans in the dwellings appeared, surging forth with weapons in their hands where there were none before. They could hardly react when the first bullets cut down half their number. Althea felt slick terror and fear roil within her, but anger as well. She gripped her two blades and, silent, rushed at the attackers.

She slew the first of the weapon-carriers with a deft and powerful strike, lobbing his head from his shoulders. She bit her toes into the soft ground, sliding on the slippery turf. Everything was a grey haze because of the rain. Confusion and chaos roiled about her, men firing at downed Wraith or attacking the living ones. Because of the disorder, she couldn't tell which Wraith was which.

_ Not Lynex, not Warrior, not Lynex, not Warrior, _her mind babbled as she flew at the humans, cutting and biting her twin hip daggers deep within soft human flesh. Men that just had time to see the slashing steel froze, eyes wide.

A knife will do that. It chokes you up, freezes your heart, brings an uncontrollable tremor to your guts. Surprisingly few people have the stomach to use a knife against another living thing. Morse than any other weapon, it makes you aware of the delicacy of flesh, the terrible fragility of human life; in the damage that he wreaks, the attacker can see all too clearly the nature of his own mortality. Anything else can be used relatively cleanly, most of them at a distance. But the creature with a knife must be prepared to get dirty, and he must get in close, so close that he can feel the heat escaping from the wounds as he makes them. It takes a special courage, or insanity, to slash at another person and not be repelled by the warm blood spurting over your hand.

The living Wraith fell into attacking, their deep-throated roars dim against the repeated crashes of lightning or the drill of the rain. With their wondrous strength and speed they slashed and knocked the humans away like sawgrass. They ducked and dodged weapon-points to unleash their wrath, slamming circled fists into temples or chests and knocking them out.

But the humans' advantage were too great for them. Despite their healing abilities, fewer and fewer Wraith got up after being cut down to fight. Blood flowed just as easily as water from both sides. Althea was a whirlwind of fury, trying to reunite herself with the others.

Suddenly, the tall form of Warrior fell down as humans shot him repeatedly, now with a stranger-form of their guns.

Terror erupted in her belly as a scream crawled its way out through her throat. She screamed his name and tried to help him but suddenly someone struck her in the back of the head, driving her to her knees. She buckled. White lights exploded in her vision and corkscrews of pain twirled in her head until a darkness closed around her and she fell into unconsciousness.

The rain continued, its thunder ominous.

…

…

…

Constructive criticism appreciated.


	11. Imprisonment

**A.N—**"Warrior" takes place somewhere within the first or second seasons.

**A.N#2**—Edited 6/10/10. Light touch-up.

.

"Imprisonment"

.s.

Althea slowly became aware that she was awake, but caution made her lie still. Her head throbbed something terrible. Some was caked to the side of her face. _Where am I? _she thought groggily, eyes flickering from their vantage point on the hard-pact dirt floor. Althea struggled to remember how the hell she got in this predicament. The last thing she remembered was a fleeting recollection of a sharp pain before everything went dark.

_ Someone must have hit me hard with something_. _It was a hard blow_, she winced to herself.

Althea closed her eyes again, concentrating. It even hurt to do that. But she continued to listen for approaching footsteps or heavy breathing. Nothing. Whoever were her captives, they weren't coming or in the room.

She struggled to sit up, a wave of dizziness washing over her. The throbbing in her head jumped to a sharp pain. She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to clear her vision. _Am I blind?_ she thought sharply, a deep lurch of panic temporally freezing her. Why was everything so dark?

It took her a few more moments for her eyes to adapt to the dimness—or at least, the dimness that comes from going inside after a really sunny day. As she could see more, the more she observed her surroundings.

Well, for one thing, she was in a large cage-like thing; cold metal bars blocked any passage out. There were some heaps in the corner, but nothing noteworthy about them. There was another cage next to it, adjoined to it. The room itself was three times the size of her cage. Artificial light streamed down from strange globes from the high ceiling. There were no windows, no chairs, no anything. Just a plain, dull-coloured room with two cages right in the middle. Even the smell was an ill-omen; everything smelt musty and of metallic water, no freshness or cleanness.

Althea jerked her head up, eyes wide and a terrible fear crawling up inside her. Her heart raced. Her hands felt like ice and eyes burning hot. What about the others? Lynex, or Warrior? She saw them cut down . . .

Althea struggled to calm herself, taking deep breaths. She strove to control it with a grim push of will. Of all her weaknesses, the feeling of being alone or left behind was the greatest. Nothing greater could cause her to shake with fear the most. It was inborn, practically, or so she thought. She liked solitude because she knew where the others were, but being _alone_ . . . Althea, mouth dry and head throbbing, looked about the cage.

Relief swept through her like hot milk when she paid closer attention to the heaps. The 'heaps' she so casually passed over were actually Wraith. She could only count three. Where were the others? And what if Lynex or Warrior weren't here?

Biting her lower lip, not making sound, she crept across the floor to the very end of the cage. The one closest to her was Lynex. His eyes were closed and unresponsive, unconscious as he lay silently on his back on the dirt floor of the cell. Alive. Althea gently shook him. No response. Asleep? Gathering strength? _He must be sleeping off a sedative_, she thought finally, snorting Wraith-like in satisfaction.

She crept to the next one but quickly left him alone; Morgar, damn all luck. Pity. He was alive, just like Lynex.

Althea scuttled toward the very edge of the cage, cautiously peeking over the prone body. Outwardly she only expressed her joy with her eyes; inside she caved in with relief. Warrior, her Warrior. Her father-figure, her leader. He, like the others, was unconscious. Althea placed a hand on his chest, satisfied with the silent, gentle heaves.

She had not a single plan or ambition in her heart, not a thought for anything else but being here with him. The simplicity of it stunned her somewhat. All what she could do was wait. They're alive. She had thought they'd been poisoned by those darts or perhaps killed, and now all what she have to do is wait.

.s.

As time went on, she began to felt morose despite her headache fading. The unchanging surroundings didn't help it, either. A mixture of indignation and anger as well as confusion boiled within her as she sat. Who were these people, to trap and confine them? What purpose would that serve? When Wraith captured humans, it was for food. The humans would serve a purpose—a meal. But why capture her and her companions? For food? She somehow doubted it. Then why?

Althea glanced at her sleeping companions. _When they wake up they'll be more than a little upset_, she thought. When it came to anger, Wraith had little patience or restraint. She began to think of ways of escaping.

The woman's thoughts had purpose and were directed by a brain in which foresight and analysis were constantly interaction with knowledge and experience. Her vulnerable position kept her survival reflexes sharp and forced her to be constantly aware of her surroundings, which together had precipitated and accelerated the training process. There was no meaningless panic, only a deep indignation and icy coolness.

Althea sat, mimicking Warrior's style with one knee up and arms around it. It was cold in the cage but she had been used to the coolness of the Hive. She kept thinking about escape when suddenly a soft groan heightened her senses and caused her to look.

"Lynex! Thank the gods you're up!" she said as she crept to his side. Lynex blinked rapidly, pupils dilated to the max. It was as if he didn't even know she was here! He looked around, as if disoriented, holding his head in one hand.

"Lynex! Snap out of it, Lynex!"

Her sharp tone woke him up a bit as the adolescent Wraith struggled into a sitting position. He narrowed his eyes to mere slits.

_ "Little Dagger? Is that you?"_

Althea marveled at the sedative's power. It must have been extremely strong to cause him to act like this.

"Yes, it's me. Listen, Lynex—we've been captured. By whom, I don't know. All I know is that they aren't keeping us for company."

Lynex bared his teeth at the word 'captured' and his eyes grew harsher and harsher as she spoke.

_ "Captured? Captured! They will all die for this—this—this trespass! How dare they?"_

As Althea predicted Lynex was furious. His eyes flashed, even though his posture remained calm. She looked around like a conspirator, as if afraid that their captors may hear them.

Suddenly something in the Wraith's eyes softened and hardened at the same time as he noticed the caked blood on her face.

_ "What did they do to you? Did they hurt you?"_

Althea brought her hand up to touch the blood as if noticing it for the first time. "Not too badly. They hit my head and knocked me out."

_ "They will die horrible deaths when I rip their guts through their mouths for hurting you."_

Althea's mouth quirked for a second as she listened to him. She couldn't help but feel pleased. "But I don't know what they did with the others. Warrior and Morgar are here, but the others . . ."

Lynex sighed softly. _"Presume them dead, Little Dagger."_

Althea said nothing.

Lynex bared his teeth again as, grunting, he pulled himself to standing position. He swayed a bit, leaning heavily on the thick iron bars.

_ "What have they done to me?"_ he growled angrily, holding his balance.

"I think they put sleep in the weapons that hit you," she said, still in kneeling position on the hard-packed ground. Despite their predicament, listening to Lynex's muttered angry curses under his breath caused her a slight smile.

.s.

Warrior was angry, that cold quiet anger than made everyone talk softly and avoid him as much as possible—a difficult feat considering they were in a cage. Althea could almost hear his mind mulling over possible plans and escape. It comforted her to see his anger, his indignation. His wrath was something to lean on.

It now must have been lots and lots of hours—time flowed in one continuous block, with no sign of day or night—since they had been captured by these people. Not a sign had passed of their captors presence. It was almost as if they weren't there, though Althea could hear them: lingering voices just beyond the doorway. Her own hunger bit and gnawed a hole in her belly. She could feel the back of her throat, cotton-dry. _What about the Wraith?_ she couldn't help think. Did they feel hunger?

If they did, they didn't show it.

It was almost a relief when their captors made their appearance. Even before they entered the cage-room, she received a peremptory signal from Warrior. She quickly got up and moved to the far corner but watched from a distance out of the corner of her eye. Warrior stood up, the effects of the drug long since gone, and just waited. Lynex and Morgar mimicked his rigid-backed stance, standing just behind him.

They only had to wait a second before a medium-height man in green military uniform entered, followed by four others. Bodyguards or sentries, she thought as they took places along the wall, leaving the first man to stand in front of the cage. Maybe mid-forties, she thought as she watched him. Curly hair, wrinkles . . . she didn't like him. The cause of their capture? _I would hate to be him_, Althea mused complacently, watching Lynex make a curled fist behind his back.

Two others appeared, a woman dressed in a lighter-green coat that went to her ankles, and another man. Althea's eyes widened in shock and loathing. It was the cold-eyed man, the same one that she tried to lure. Even now, he gazed at the captives with an aloof, arrogant look. She wanted to rip his face off.

She glanced in the direction of the Wraith. To most people, they seemed impassive, but Althea could see their wariness and anger in the subtle shadings of expression and posture. They were tensely watching their captors, trying to make sense of the events.

The human before them started speaking in a strange though bizarringly familiar tongue, she presumed, to Warrior. Warrior didn't even give the man the satisfaction of an answer. He just glared coolly at the human, tight-lipped. Instead of being cowed, the man laughed.

Althea bared her own teeth. It was a harsh and dissonant sound. She struggled not to recoil from it, growling quietly to herself. Her hatred for the man surged as the man continued to speak to Warrior, his tone mocking and scornful.

To her amazement, Warrior calmly and without any hint of anger spoke back to the man in the strange tongue. Althea gaped at him. How did he understand the human? He spoke so fluently, too. And she heard it before, too . . . but where?

She had little time to mull over this strange new twist when the woman—a crisp little thing—whispered something to the curly-haired man and pointed at Warrior. It was too soft for Althea to hear. What were they talking about? And why were they eyeing Warrior like that?

She was so confused and irritated by the humans' stares it was only too late did she realize all was not well. The swiftness of it all stunned her. She could hardly react when someone opened the cage door and the cold-eyed man beginning to shoot her companions with Lynex's own stunner.

All three Wraith went down with snarls of pain and ferocity. Warrior lasted the longest, fighting against the effects to get at his tormenters. The very sound of their pain spurred her into action. Although weaponless, Althea launched herself through the still-open door, giving her own Wraith-snarl, straight at the cold-eyed man.

It was as if they hadn't expected her to react. What did they take me for, some witless youngling? she thought furiously as she kicked the stunner out of his hands. If only I could feed! Then I'll take his miserable life. Althea was surrounded by the guards in seconds. She screamed in anger, lashing and kicking. She wiggled out of their grasps and winded several by expertly-placed kicks. She was a whirlwind of fury, lashing and snarling and flailing about, just as smoke in her captors' hands.

Things would get out of hand if it hadn't been for the stinging white-hot lance of agony on her arm followed by the sharp retort of a weapon. She immediately buckled against the pain. The guards shoved her, hard, back within the cell alongside the once-again prone figures of Lynex and Morgar.

But what about Warrior? she struggled to remain coherent through the haze of pain and fury. Her hot blood soaked her arm. Where were they taking him? Even as she bounced back on her feet to throw herself at the cage door, she watched the cold-eyed man and two others dragging him away.

"What are you going to do to him!" she said, a terrible fear for him as well the pain in her arm making her mad, absolutely mad. "You harm him and I'll make you pay!"

But her words were in vain as the guards filtered out and left her, alone, to bitter silence.

.s.

It didn't take long—an hour or so—for the two adolescent Wraith to awake from their stunned sleep. Althea had wrapped her wound with a strip of clothing, quiet as they hissed into consciousness. She hadn't taken her eyes off the doorway, waiting for her Leader.

_ "This is all your fault,"_ spat Morgar, fury blazing in his eyes. At _her._

_ "She had nothing to do with this,"_ Lynex cut in coolly.

Morgar wrinkled his nose at him in contempt.

_ "Still sticking up for that harlot, Lynex? You disgust me. Even if she led these humans right to us you would __still__ deny it!"_

_ "Watch your tongue, Morgar,"_ Lynex said. _"This isn't her fault. We just happened to hunt in the wrong place at the wrong time."_

Morgar rolled his eyes and said, _"You're pathetic. You should have known this would have happened. I warned all of them that you were no good, but no!"_

When Althea didn't hear Lynex reply, she knew with dread and weariness he was talking to her_._

With exaggerated slowness Althea turned around, leveling her gaze into Morgar's eyes—not exactly the blatant staring, but close. The muscles of her back rippled with threat as she studied his face. It was a belligerent glance, a deathly calm, intent look that pieced to the soul from grey eyes.

"Excuse me," she said. "I'm afraid I didn't hear you. What did you say?"

_ "I said you are pathetic. The only reason why the Leader allowed you to tag along was because we were testing out a new technique, and you just had to mess it up."_

_ "Little Dagger, let it go,"_ Lynex warned as Althea struggled behind her cool mask. Pulse pounding, Althea fought for calm, dismayed that even now, after all this time, her enemy could still spit barbs to rankle her.

"I had no idea this could happen, Morgar," she replied with an unnatural calm. "And even if I knew, I would have warned Warrior beforehand."

Morgar sneered at her from across the cage.

_ "Ah, yes. And where is our mighty leader now, I wonder? Being tortured, no doubt, because of your carelessness."_

_ "You don't even have the gut to speak of our leader like that, Morgar,"_ snapped Lynex, his patience running taunt. _"And leave Little Dagger alone. She has enough to worry about than having to deal with you, too."_

_ "What are you saying?"_ said Morgar.

Lynex exchanged deadly glares with his life-long enemy. Althea could taste the tension in the air. It was thick and oppressing, like the humidity before a thunderstorm. This would have probably escalated if she hadn't heard footsteps.

"Quiet! I hear people coming!" she said, involuntarily taking the role as watch guard.

The two Wraiths ceased their bickering and stood, waiting for the inevitable. What they couldn't be prepared for was the sight of the human guards dragged the unconscious figure of their leader back. Althea jolted to her feet, fear and apprehension surging through her, ignoring the throbbing pain in her arm. Was he alright? Why didn't he fight? Was he stunned?

This time, the two Wraiths didn't move when the door opened. Though Wraith have little constraint or patience during these circumstances, they weren't stupid. They knew it would be fruitless if they tried to escape now. Instead, they watched with cold and hostile eyes as Warrior was shoved into the cell.

Althea hardly even waited for the door to be closed before rushing to his side. She hardly even cared for the watching humans' looks of fascinated disgust and contempt. She gently checked for any blood or broken bones. Nothing. Outwardly he was fine. She felt the slow heave of his chest against hers. However, his entire form, so seemingly solid and powerful, was trembling.

Trembling? Was he cold?

Althea prayed it was nothing.

.s.

Althea fell into an uneasy sleep, curled up in a ball. Lynex watched over her. She had fitful dreams, that old nightmare of a dark paw and claws, and her painful arm caused her to sleep poorly. Her hunger was now clawing at her belly, her thirst powerful. It didn't take much to wake her—heart pounding, eyes wide and stark terror pulsing through her. She only calmed down when she realize that it only Lynex shaking her instead of a furious forest cat.

"Lynex—what's happening?"

_ "It's Warrior,"_ he said. There was a bitter helplessness in his voice. _"He's awake."_

Althea took one look at Lynex's pale bluish face and realized something was wrong—terribly wrong. Quickly Althea got up—wincing at her arm—and walked to Warrior's side.

The look of agony on his face stricken Althea. Perspiration rolled down his face. His breaths were ragged and choppy; it was as if each breath caused pain. He clutched at his stomach, huddled in a corner, eyes slitted and teeth bared. He shook with each breath.

"Warrior?" Althea whispered, voice lost.

Warrior acted as if he didn't hear her.

"Warrior!" she said, trying to get his attention. Warrior uncharacteristically winced as if she had screamed in his ear. He flinched inwardly, gritting his teeth, but somehow put on a composed face.

_ "Little . . . Dagger. Let me . . . be."_

"You're hurt, terribly hurt," Althea said. "Let me help you."

_ "No help . . . will save me . . . now,"_ he said, struggling to keep the pain within his control. It was only his iron will and self-discipline that allowed him to continue talking.

"What have they done to you?" Althea had to ask, pained more deeply than she had ever been before.

_ "I . . . don't know."_ The pain throbbed and threatened to escape his control. _"Leave me . . . be."_

"No, I won't," Althea said. "I won't abandon you now, not here, not ever. I will help."

Warrior bared his teeth as he clutched at his side, his fevered eyes glaring up at hers. He wanted to explain to her that he would rather die horribly than be aided. Wraith do not help deathly wounded comrades. If it is their fate to die, then death will claim them. If now it meant that he died, then he would accept it. Once again, Althea amazed him with her un-Wraithness. Where did she ever get the idea to help him? By now he was having more difficulty controlling his pain.

_ "You will . . . be punished for . . . disobeying, Little . . . Dagger."_

"First you'll have to well to rebuke me properly," Althea said.

Warrior tried to scowl, tried to show his stoic-leader front, but he couldn't help it in the face of his adopted child. He instead rolled on his side and shook violently as the tremors of pain broke through his defenses and crashed down on him.

.s.

Althea had never felt so desolate, so totally frustrated at her inability to find some solution. When she had been finally given food and water, she ate it without tasting; it turned to ash in her mouth. She instead went directly to Warrior, racking her brain for a solution. But nothing would help. She even sacrificed her much-wanted water to cool his fevered brow.

All the while, Lynex and Morgar sat in opposite corners, watching out of the corner of their eyes. Lynex could only feel a helpless anger, struggling against anger's feeling. But Morgar had a funny look in his eye whenever he heard Warrior groan with whatever-induced agony gripped him.

Days passed. The companions just sat and thought about escape. They tried breaking or bending bars, slipping through the bars, opening the door, scratch a way out from under it—everything. Nothing worked. Also, it didn't help that humans in light-green coats passed by in hourly intervals, taking notes on Warrior as if he was an animal. Althea hackled whenever they came close, snarling loudly to warn them away. Lynex or Morgar never said nothing, quiet and cold.

.s.

For better or for worse, Warrior's usual writhing and clenching on the ground passed into fevered chills and long periods of sleep. His face was bathed in sweat and his hair felt slick. Althea, once, threw up her hands in utter despair and stormed to Lynex's side.

"I can't find anything physically wrong with him, Lynex!" She had plunked herself besides him and had rested her head on his cool shoulder. "Why would the humans do that to him?"

Lynex had shaken his head thoughtfully, emotions alien behind his deep-green eyes.

_ "I think the idea of them being food causes fierce denial. Humans have particular ways of coping—like trying to find ways to stop our feeding process or trying to make them immune."_

He had snorted loudly as if at the whole idea was folly.

_ "They cannot change the fact that we need to feed. They are food—it's just as simple as that."_

Althea felt weary and tired, but slightly cheered by Lynex's conviction.

"We have to get out of here, Lynex. If we want to live, we need to escape."

Lynex had said nothing.

Now, when she stormed to Lynex's side, she asked, "Are there others that will be looking for us? Warrior is going to need help."

_ "Little Dagger . . . I don't think so."_

"What? Why?" The unease she had felt since the beginning of the ordeal lurched.

Lynex gave a long sigh. _"Hunters die all the time on hunts—yes, even simple cullings. When the others on the ship didn't receive any sign or signal that we were coming within a day, they probably left, thinking the worst. We are stranded." _

.s.

Through the doorway came voices. Althea steadied herself, pretending to be busy with the bottom of her foot. She had gone over this moment in her mind over and over. Whether she would drag down others to her fate, that would be up to Whoever that watched over her. But they would not have Warrior again to test their petty experiments, even if it meant she killing herself. He seemed to be getting better, and she would have risk him getting worse after his ordeal. They will not take him.

Althea waited, watching, inwardly trembling with anticipation and dreading the pain. Would she be shot again? Even now her old wound hurt and had to change her makeshift bandage every day.

But what walked through the door wasn't her death.

Rather, it was four new humans, one female and three males, being pushed and herded by these human scum into the other cage. _More prisoners?_ she thought. What were these people, to trap their own? Did they perform experiments on them too_?_

Besides her, Lynex stiffened and froze.

Althea frowned. "What's wrong?"

Lynex spat only one word.

"Lanteans!"

….

…

…

Constructive criticism welcomed.


	12. Lanteans

**A.N—**The word 'Lantean' is a Wraith slang for 'Atlantian.'

**A.N#2**—Edited 6/11/10.

.

"Lanteans"

.s.

Lanteans, from the infamous city. Althea wanted to stare at them all day, especially the one with the strangely messy hair dark brown. She couldn't help but study him in particular; he was handsome in his own seasoned, rugged way. His eyes were so compelling. She flushed at the strange sensations she felt within her body.

A disgusted snort from Lynex besides her brought her back to reality. Althea quickly switched from her obvious staring to something more subtle. Staring was offensive amongst Wraith. Was it the same case with Lanteans?

_"Filthy trespassers, brooking such outrage would be our own fault," _he said. _"Arrogant beasts, the lot of them." _

Without qualms, he directed a haughtily chilling stare at them, despite the fact that he was in the same predicament as them.

"Really? They seem as in the same pit as us," Althea commented absentmindedly, still watching them converse in a far corner of their own cage. "We're on the same grounds."

Lynex let out a scornful, dismissive laugh.

_"Ha! I would never compare myself with their kind whom condemns us for mere killers! All things need to eat, and they're too prideful to accept that. Scum," _he sais for good measure, turning his back on them.

Althea frowned as she looked at her friend. She had never seen Lynex act like this. Was he ill? Maybe it's the fact of imprisonment, she couldn't help musing. Yes, that's it. Wraith egos can be especially tender, but she never experienced flat-out contempt such as this.

Hesitantly, after a long silence Althea was made bold to say, "We've tried everything, Lynex. We ourselves don't hold the key to our escape."

In responds she got a grunt of sulky agreement.

"And these new prisoners—the Lanteans—are just as stuck as we are. Arrogant or deceitful they may be, they are trapped."

A snort.

"Alone, we have no chance. Alone, they have no chance as well."

Silence.

"Maybe . . . we can help each other get out."

Lynex slowly moved only his eyes to look at her, amazed. He regarded her for a moment with just a touch of impatience. He wrinkled his nose.

_"What you say is madness. Where did you come up with such a foolish idea! It would never work."_ His voice was bitter, discouraged. And reproving.

"Just a thought," she said, looking down.

_"Well, keep such follies to yourself next time!"_ he said. _"Honestly—working with these creatures? You amaze me, Little Dagger."_

A little hurt and surprised his sudden coldness, Althea got up and walked over to the bars closest to the other humans. A shiver of excitement surged through her, unexpectedly giving her gooseflesh. It was the same feeling someone could get if they walked up to a deadly tiger but remain safe from its claws. Her curious side got the better of her.

So, were these the infamous trouble-makers that stirred up so much trouble? Althea rested on her haunches. They were the cause of the civil war and the rationing? The weeding of weaker clans? The clashes of simple cullings between rival Wraith?

There wasn't anything too special about them . . . they didn't look like gods or seem to be sly and sneaky like foxes. Just normal, regular humans.

Two of the males seemed to be arguing in their tongue, their words sharp. It was the leader—she assumed he was the leader—and a shorter male with straight, short brown hair. Even from her distance she could see the thin sheen of perspiration on his brow. His lips moved very fast, almost too fast as if to get all the words he wanted to say at once. Weak? He didn't seem to be a hunter or the warrior type. He wasn't an adolescent on his first hunt. Althea's brows lifted. A scientist? True, Wraith scientists are not hunters, though they could prove worthy opponents when backed into a corner, but this human lacked anything remotely dangerous. Althea's mouth quirked.

It looked like he was headed toward a nervous break-down.

A female was with them, probably the calmer and most composed of all of them. A natural leader, like her Warrior, Althea observed. Self-disciplined and almost cool, but after a life-time of studying reactions and expressions showed the tenseness of worry and readiness of a fighter. She had nut-brown skin that was matched by browner hair with lighter streaks of blonde on the top. _Must be the prettiest female specimen I've seen,_ Althea mused. But can looks be deceiving? What if all Lynex said was true: were they nothing but clever creatures acting on pure instinct?

I know _I'm_ not, Althea thought. But is that because I've been raised by the Wraith?

She shrugged to herself; who knew?

But the _other_ male . . .

This male stared, pointedly stared, straight at her. Althea immediately felt uneasy and unsettled by the—venom? Hatred?—intensity of his gaze. Not only had that, but his pure physical size and mass added to the intimidating presence. The leader had a refined sort of ruggedness. But _this_ one was purely coarse—unpolished—and powerfully weathered into a formidable opponent. Whereas the other had restraint and control, this one had everything opposite. Althea shifted on her haunches, refusing to look away first. This one looked like the leaders' opposite.

Minutes passed. The imposing male continued his pointed, sharp glare. Loathing, contempt. Hatred. Why did he stare at her so? She became a little thankful of the metal bars.

Once again Althea sorely wished for her blades that the other humans took. With them, at least she would hold a chance if pitted against the human warrior.

With dignity, Althea lifted her chin, got up, and walked toward Warrior's side. That blank, venomous stare bothered her. Even the suspicious, hostile gaze from Morgar she was receiving now didn't seem as unsettling. There had been no reason within that look, no explanation. _Humans,_ she thought. _Will I ever understand their kind?_

"Warrior . . . how are you feeling?"

One eye opened. It regarded her, studying.

_"Not yet to the point where I will personally slay them all . . ."_ The eye closed. _"But better."_

"There's no more pain?" she said.

The eyes remained closed.

_"There is sensation, but it is not exactly what we call pain,"_ he rasped. He spoke no more afterward, both hands resting on his flat stomach, face calm.

Althea licked her lips.

"Warrior, I beg you for patience, but . . . do you remember what happened to you? What caused you to be . . . like this?"

This time both green eyes opened, once again gracing her with the hooded look. The white lashes made as if he was half-asleep. He betrayed not the slightest affront as he looked up at her.

_"One thing I have learned about the race of more superior humans is that when they have a subject to torment, they gloat and boast to the point it makes you sick. This clan of humans is not an exception."_ Warrior paused for breath, his breathing already ragged. Though most of pain had left him, weakness filled the pain's void.

Althea waited patiently, respectful.

_"The human leader—damn his thrice accursèd skin—spoke something about 'salt water.'"_ Warrior snorted loudly, baring his sharp teeth.

"Salt water. What is it? Was that what they put into you?"

Warrior looked at her, but not in disproval but perhaps approval. If there was one thing that set Althea apart from others, it was her natural curiosity and the need to know new things. Her ideas and concepts always marked her different—not wrong, just different.

_"Though we as a people have little care for such trifle knowledge . . . Salt water comes from the ocean. The sea."_

"Ocean," echoed Althea, testing out the new word on her tongue. Back on the homeworld she had never seen or heard of such the place—besides, Wraith don't lair near too much moisture.

Warrior coughed sharply, wincing. Althea quelled the urge to ask if he was alright. By now, it was beneath him to accept any help, and offering now would surely reward her with a curt rebuff.

"Warrior," she began after a time had passed. "Before they took you . . . I noticed you spoke the humans' tongue."

The Wraith said nothing, eyes hooded.

"I wonder . . . how could you understand them? Why couldn't I? What did they say?"

_"You could never learn to curb your curiosity, could you?"_ Warrior rumbled mildly, his look more awake now.

Althea bowed her head humbly, mouth quirking slightly. It was up to Warrior whether or not to answer her questions. If he refused, she would have to accept that.

She raised her head again when she heard Warrior give a long sigh.

_"Yes, I know the Common tongue—as do all Wraith. I chose not to teach it to you."_

Althea rocked back on her haunches, eyes narrowed.

"You mean, you speak and understand the humans? Why didn't you tell me before, Warrior? And . . . why didn't you teach me?"

Warrior lay there, silent, peering at her steadily, something flickering in his brooding green eyes. He seemed tormented in some deep way, as if he wanted to say more but couldn't.

Instead, he gave a small, distractedly laconic snort. _"I knew you would figure out that we speak Common. You're a clever one; you would need no help from me." _He shifted slightly, as if settling for another sleep.

"But you didn't teach me," Althea reminded, a little upset. Why keep such knowledge from her in the first place? Then she could understand what these humans were saying.

But this time, Warrior refused to answer. He instead blinked slowly, eyelids gently fluttering as he prepared to sleep again.

"Warrior?"

_"What?"_

His very tone made her think twice before asking, but she plowed on doggedly.

"Warrior, is it possible that we could ask the Lanteans for help? We could help each other, or . . ." She trailed off, hopeful that apprehensive at the same time at the Wraith's reaction. If Lynex reacted badly to it, there was no telling what Warrior would do.

Again, he didn't answer right away. He looked at her with his green eyes, obviously considering the idea from all angles. But there was an unhappiness beneath the surface, and it was tangled with deep considerations, going back through a very long life. Then he snorted lightly, once, indifferent.

_"Do what you will."_

And with that, he fell asleep.

.s.

"Lynex?"

_"What?"_

Althea squared her shoulders. "Just answer me this one question: Can you understand the Lanteans and all humans in particular?"

_"Yes,"_ he said. _"What, did the Leader tell you?"_

"Lynex, can you translate for me?"

His pupils dilated in shock. Maybe it was at her sudden request; perhaps it was her boldness. He frowned, eyes narrowing.

_"Translate for you what?"_ he said, slowly saying the words carefully.

Althea inwardly sighed at the resistance she was getting.

"Translate the Lanteans for me," she said without preamble, Wraith-like.

_"Translate the LANTEANS for you!" _he whispered harshly. He seemed at a loss for words. Althea remained calm, still waiting for his answer respectfully. Lynex noticed her sudden formality and immediately took a gentler tone.

_"Why would you ever want to speak to their kind? They are the root of all our problems! If it wasn't for them, we wouldn't be in civil war. If it wasn't for them . . ."_ Lynex leaned back against the bars, eyes suddenly shadowed by his eyeridges. Artificial light streamed down, highlighting the now-dominate silver streaks of his hair.

"If it wasn't for them, many things wouldn't have changed," Althea said. "But now, we _need_ them, now, to make some changes now—like getting out of this hellpit."

Lynex didn't reply, brooding.

"I want to speak to them."

Nothing.

"Please, Lynex, I am begging you as a friend," she said. "We may have little time before they try to take Warrior away again . . . or you. I wouldn't bear it."

A long pause.

A shoulder shifted ever-so-slightly: a shrug?

_"Very well. I will translate for you,"_ he said, waving a hand in a little weary accepting gesture.

.s.

Althea walked back adjoined side of the cage. Such were her heightened senses she could feel the small pebbles of the dirt floor underneath her thin-soled shoes. The artificial light glared down, basking and tinting off everything in an unnatural, yellow glow. The dankness, the very dull beige of the walls and mustiness seemed to cast a gloom to everything . . .

But to Althea, something like hope flared within her—folly it may be, foolish hope—but hope nonetheless. Even when she thought about it she was amazed at the cleverness of the plan—who would have thought! Lanteans and the Wraith-folk? Together? Helping each other?

_What a pleasant fiction_, she thought, subtly watching Lynex out of the corner of her eye. It was only dire straits that could bring them together, or foreboding threats. Even her companion's reluctance and unwillingness seemed proof enough that this would be a long uphill battle, with only encouraging words as weapons.

She sat, Indian-style, on the hard-pact ground. Just a little behind her, Lynex kneeled as all Wraith do: one knee up to the chest, arms encircling it and hands clasped. Although he seemed impassive, Althea could tell he was grudging and wary. Tales of the Lanteans' trickery and cunningness were well-known amongst Wraith hunters.

She waited.

The scientist was pacing, hardly glancing her a look. He seemed to be still arguing with the leader. The woman kept watch, head cocked as if a hind sensing for fire. A lookout, maybe. Ever so often she would glance at the other cage, as if to account their presences, and resumed watching the doorway. It wasn't long enough to catch Althea's desire to speak with them.

Once again, Althea counted on the large, rough warrior. As if sensing her presence, he stared at her. It was that same blank face, that same venomous glare. His lips curled. He spoke gruffly to the leader.

_"Sheppard . . ." _murmured Lynex, already beginning to translate, despite his distance. Althea felt her blood tingle. It had begun.

The leader cut off his retort to the other and looked at him.

_"What is it?"_

The warrior just continued to stare at Althea and Lynex's direction. The Lantean leader followed his gaze until rested on them. He smirked.

_"Looks like we've got company,"_ Lynex translated, complete with sarcastic intonation. _How could he hear that far?_ thought Althea. Even now, as she sat, it only seemed like they were whispering.

_"Let's go greet our neighbors,"_ said the messy-haired human through Lynex. _"Teyla?"_

The woman drew her gaze from the door and back toward where Althea was sitting. Her face was impassive, though a flicker of caution shaded her expression.

_"I see no harm in mere speaking, but take care. Remember the one you called Neera . . ."_

Neera? Who was this Neera, and why was she warning him with that name? What—have they encountered others like her, Wraith-raised? Something squirmed in her belly. She hoped that didn't complicate things. Would they still speak to her?

_"I'll dot my i's and cross my t's, if that's what you mean," _replied the other. Even at the distance, Althea could see he pitched his voice lower and leaned toward the woman.

However, Lynex was as keen-eared as ever.

_"Do you sense anything?"_

The woman slowly shook her head.

_"I sense . . . reluctance from the Wraith . . ." _She looked at him. _"Sheppard, it would safe to say the human besides it wishes to speak with us, not the Wraith."_

_"Do Wraith do that? Hell, I'm surprised they aren't sucking the life out of her as we speak! But let her talk . . .? Even with that worshipper it didn't seem she got any freedom with the Wraith," _he said through Lynex.

Worshipper? _What worshippers?_ Althea thought. Worship . . . the Wraith? Who would do that?

_"I cannot say."_

_"Alright . . . I'll see what she—it, whatever—has to say. What would be the harm, anyway? We're stuck as it is, a little banter couldn't be too bad between someone other than Rodney . . ."_

_"Hey! I heard that!" _the scientist said, ceasing his pacing for a moment to glare down at the other. Lynex mimicked him simultaneously.

Althea held her breath. What would the leader do? Would he strike him for his boldness? If ANYBODY spoke to Warrior like that they would surely be killed. Warrior wasn't a kind leader, but a just and experienced one. What would this leader do?

To her surprise, the leader merely shrugged, as if it was nothing. The scientist—Rodney, she thought, testing the alien name on her tongue—began to grumble something that Lynex didn't translate.

Instead, the human got up and walked—sauntered?—over to the where Althea and Lynex sat. The other man, the big warrior, got up as well and lumbered after him, now directing his hostile, suspicious gaze at Lynex. A bodyguard? Hm. Althea, impassive and calm outwardly, was alive and jittery on the inside. Lanteans! She felt a curious mix of hesitation and purpose fill her.

The man showed no fear—defiant and cocky in front of her and Lynex. Well, one part of Lynex's grumblings are true: they seem so sure of themselves, Althea thought. He sat, cross-leggèd, before them. Once again, his very appearance struck her. His hair was so alien and strange—short in length compared to even a youngling Wraith and with colour. Even his facial features were alien to her. No facial slits, unslitted eyes, no mustachios adorning his chin. His skin was dirty but with a tanned peach complexion instead of the greenish tint of Wraith skin.

_Did his skin feel differently? _Althea suddenly thought, randomly. Did it feel like a Wraith's?

Althea glanced at Lynex, a little unsure. Damn it, why didn't Warrior teach her the human tongue! Lynex black-green eyes met hers for a second, and he gave her a barely noticeable nod. He spoke to the human leader in the foreign and yet strangely familiar tongue, voice cool and a little condescending.

The leader—_Sheppard, that's what he's called, _she thought—made a sneering comment, but Lynex didn't translate it.

_"He was speaking to me,"_ he said to Althea, his face impassive.

_Well, now that was a good start,_ she inwardly sighed.

_"State your piece, Wraith,"_ the rugged warrior rumbled impatiently, which Lynex immediately interpreted. His translation was so smooth and quick, she almost forgot her interpreter. She felt she was talking directly to the humans.

Sheppard ignored the other and said directly to Althea through Lynex, _"What do you want?"_

…

…

…

Criticism welcomed.


	13. Loss of a Name

**A.N**—Edited 6/11/10.

.

"Loss of a Name"

.s.

"The same what you want," Althea said, hiding her excitement behind a cool, neutral mask.

_ "Oh? And what would that be?" _replied the human, cocking his head, mocking interest. He grinned cheekily, but his eyes were untouched by mirth. Behind him, the rugged one continued his blank and suspicious front.

"To escape this place," she said, a slight frown on her brow. Were these humans stupid? Couldn't they see that escape was top priority? Why was he acting as if was a mere youngling? Already she disliked his patronizing tone.

_ "Got any ideas?" _Sheppard said, eyebrows rising to his crop of unruly hair.

Althea thought before answering. Besides her, Lynex kept his peace, coolly switching glares at the larger human.

"No. But I was hoping . . . that if we would work . . . together—"

_ "Together?"_ repeated the leader with a disbelieving laugh. _"Wait, are you saying you want us to help you out of here?" _Lynex translated, complete with sarcastic intonation.

"No, I didn't. I said we could work together to get _all_ of us out of here, not only me," said Althea.

Sheppard narrowed his eyes. They darted to Lynex and then back to Althea.

_ "Even them?"_

"Them?"

_ "You know,"_ he said in a confused tone, _"them."_

Althea stared at him blankly.

He gave a snort of exasperation. _"I'm meaning the Wraith!"_

"Yes, them too."

Her direct answer brought the other up short. It startled him; he leaned away from the bars. She had answered with no hesitation, no qualms—as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

_ "Why?"_

It was like being asked why the sky was blue, or where the wind came from. Althea shifted her weight, hiding uncertainty. Was this a trick question?

"Why not? If they are to help you, then it is only fair you help them."

Sheppard leaned in close.

_ "But . . . but they're W-r-a-i-t-h!"_

"So?"

Once again, the innocent bluntness caught the leader off guard. Then a subtle change in him surfaced: a hint of disgust and distrust. It was as if he had suddenly seen something dirty in her.

_ "Are . . . are you saying you don't . . . care?"_ Sheppard asked, incredulous, shock in his voice. It didn't take a language barrier to find that out.

"Why should I?" said Althea, despite feeling a spark of irritation.

_ "Oh, I see. You're being held hostage, isn't it? You have no choice to pretend that you don't care or else they'll suck your life out, right?" _

"No," Althea said quite honestly, oddly uncomfortable by this subject. "I was raised by them."

_ "Liar," _growled the other human, speaking up for the first time.

_ "Ronon, I got this," _said Sheppard, not taking his eyes away from Althea or Lynex. Reluctantly, 'Ronon' submitted to the other's leadership, silencing.

"Ronon," said Althea, tasting the male's name on her tongue. It rolled in her mouth. "Ronon."

_ "So you can say his name: good job,"_ Sheppard said in mock approval. He didn't notice that Lynex hackled at the condescending tone he was taking with her.

But Althea could, and quickly made amends. "I am sorry. It's just I have never heard a human's name before."

_ "See? Now that ain't natural,"_ the leader said, indignant. His tone held his disproval and perplexity. _"How can you allow yourself to fall into a way of life that goes so utterly against your nature! Against all the—the—the _feelings_ and _instincts_ of your race! Damn it—living with these things, going with them freely, hell, even staying with them under no pressure!"_

He was lecturing, his tone a furiously hushed whisper. Lynex was translating almost simultaneously, as though he knew the words Sheppard was saying. Althea could almost forget that the Wraith was speaking for her, it seemed as though she was hearing and understanding Sheppard herself. But that still didn't lesson the sting of the human's tone. Despite her coolness, she could feel her control slipping.

"Wraith they may be, but it was they who first took me—I, an orphan. It was they who fed me, clothed me, taught me. It was they who allowed me to live." Althea, too, was lecturing in the same hushed, fierce whisper.

_ "But they eat us!"_

"So the essence of life is the eating of life," said Althea calmly, feeling dismayed that they weren't talking about what she wanted to talk. "Life lives by killing and eating itself. Isn't that the first function of life—mainly eating?"

_ "That depends on what you eat, miss,"_ Sheppard shot back. It was as if her cool and collected tone and posture irritated him. But why should it? Maybe it was her lack of reaction to the blunt facts. It wasn't natural. She should at least feel _some _horror! Who knew?

_ "Oh, and you guys do have names, right? I mean, you don't go wandering about and calling each other Steve all the time, do you?"_

Althea stared at him blankly, only half understanding the human's speech. Steve? What's this random business? Such an odd human. But what she did understand was that he was asking her name. Her _name._ There was utterly no reason for her to give him her name—it was hers to keep secret to underlings and strangers. But . . . what if, as an act of good faith, she told him hers? Maybe he wouldn't be so distrustful, she thought. Even the loss of her name might buy them freedom.

But it was her name. It would be either a very wise thing or very foolish thing. A Wraith's name was more than just its title or identification: it was the essence of its being. Nothing was prized more than secrecy of such a possession. Because of that, no two Wraith had the same name. the highest rank may know the names of their underlings: a sign of dominance. Peers may know the names of their peers: a sign of unity. Close companions may tell their names—their true being: a sign of friendship. And when females told their names to males: a sign of courtship. Of attraction.

She took a deep breath. She could almost feel Lynex tense besides her in warning; she could almost hear his mental plea for her to stay silent.

"I am called Little Dagger."

A subtle change came over him then, a sort of relaxation—a yielding, perhaps. Lynex remained rigid besides her, but she ignored him. Such evils must be taken. Althea resisted the urge to gnaw on her bottom lip.

_ "Little . . . Dagger . . . er, nice name," _Sheppard said. _"And I suppose the Wraith have names too?"_

"Theirs are for themselves," Althea said. Short of torture, she would not give up her companions' names. She fidgeted slightly. "But that is for later: will you accept, Lantean, in the alliance?"

The eyes narrowed and Sheppard rocked back. Behind him, Ronon continued to glare belligerently at her. The stare had intensified when the humans had both learned that she lived amongst them and accepted their source of food.

After a pause—a very long pause—Sheppard said, _"I will have to speak with my people about this."_

Althea bowed her head.

"We will wait."

The humans started to get up from the ground but stopped when Althea said, "Wait. One more thing before we part ways."

A raised eyebrow.

_ "Yeah?"_

"Tell me—whom are our captors? And what do they want with us?"

Sheppard sighed.

_ "They're called the Genii, and lets just say they're the type where they get . . . touchy . . . if people knock on their secret doors."_

She understand the language, but they were speaking two different dialects. 'They get touchy if people knock on their secret doors?' Was this a code? Did that mean they prized their secrecy? Althea only nodded reluctantly, wanting more but having to be pulled away when footsteps approached their room. So . . . these were the 'Genii'. Never heard of them before. Hmm. Maybe Warrior might know.

Althea quickly got up and scooted toward the centre of the cage. Lynex followed more slowly, brooding and morose. If Althea had noticed his look, she would have said that something she had done had wounded him. But what did she do? All she did was give her name . . .

Two men—two Genii—walked in. The first fellow was one whom Althea hadn't seen before, though he wore that lighter green coat—a scientist. The other was the Genii leader's right hand, or so she assumed, the one with the pock-marked face and strangely dead eyes. Were they coming for Warrior? she thought, unease collapsing into terror. Even as she looked at the second-in-command, as she gazed in hatred at him, her injured arm throbbed. The wound still hadn't healed, despite her periodic licking and cleaning the bandage.

She struggled to find the right word of the scientist's attitude as he approached the cage, slick black hair wavy and confident. 'Comfortable' didn't quite cover the idea, and neither did 'matter-of-fact'. But no fear. With an air of analytical curiosity, the scientist walked over to where Warrior laid on the ground, quite, asleep. Warrior was propped right next to the bars, in easy reach of any that stuck their arms in.

Lynex and Morgar stood at the far corner, impassive and cold. Althea, however, rushed to Warrior's side, a warning snarl in her throat as the man bended down just beyond the bars. It didn't matter to her that the dead-eyed man had a weapon trained on her. If it meant protecting her Leader, she could piss on the consequences.

The scientist only backed out of reach, still not afraid, a small smirk of amusement on his face. He raised his hands, palms up, in a peaceful gesture. To her, he looked anything but peaceful. Like a forest cat, she snarled at him again, teeth flashing.

_ "I just need to feel his pulse."_

Lynex's translation floated to her as the man began to speak. Althea hackled, uncertain if he meant harm or aid. The man saw her reaction and gave a dry smile.

_ "You can make this simple or difficult. Either I just reach in here, or I have Koyla here beat the crap out of you so I can have easy access. Your choice."_

Though Althea was furious, she recognized defeat. Reluctantly, she backed off, swallowing a growl. However, she hovered protectively, eyes keen for the slightest intent of harm.

Again, almost contentedly, the man threaded a hand through the bars. He grasped one limp, unresponsive hand and brought it closer to his face. He placed two fingers on the upturned wrist. He waited for a second.

_ "Hm. Somewhat fast," _he murmured to himself, which Lynex translated with ease, _"but nothing to worry about. Hm. I thought I judged the dose better than that. I must have misjudged the relative ratio of muscle to fat._ _Hm."_

He dropped the hand and fearlessly put a hand over Warrior's sleeping face.

_ "Breathing. That's good. A bit shallow . . . the purge must have worked as planned, but too little in his blood. Next time, I'll have to increase the dose."_

At the last part, Althea bristled. She hated his smooth, easy tone: it utterly aggravated her. Who was this meaningless human to speak so easily about the eldest of the Three? The second-in-command of the Hive Queen? Paah! As if Warrior was nothing but a—a—a lab experiment! And 'increase the dose?' What did that mean? Would Warrior be once again subjected to hours or days of agony and then comas?

The scientist stood up, brushed his lab coat for any invisible specks of dust, and walked away. She could tell by the satisfied set of his shoulders, the confident tilt of his chin that he was pleased. The language of his body was not too different from the one that she had already learned.

But no fear. Did these people think them tame? Controlled? She swallowed another growl, not liking the thought at all. She resolved that as soon as possible she would make sure these Genii knew that captive and tame were not at all the same thing.

.s.

As the scientist left, 'Kolya' stayed behind. Now he had a gun and a metal canister of food in both his hands. Ha. What a great combination.

_ "Supper,"_ Kolya said with mocking cheerfulness. _"We have a different menu for you." _

Althea's mouth watered at the scent of the sweet stuff.

_ "You're not going to try anything. I have to open the cage to hand you your bowl. Give me any trouble, and you'll get raw meat."_

"Now," Kolya said, still with that drawl of assumed geniality when Althea said nothing. _"Let me explain the rules. I give you food. You enjoy. Any messing about, and I stop waiting on you and you go hungry. Understand?"_

Silence.

_ "Rarby, ready the weapons. Orient yours on the girl. I have the Wraith."_

As much as Althea hated Kolya for his foresight, she also had to admire him. There was a distinct possibility that if Lynex attacked their captors he could take out the man before any injuries he took significantly slowed him—and although she hated to admit it, his devotion to her was such that he would not risk their freedom for her life.

Rarby moved to where any shot from his gun would be instantly fatal for Althea.

_ "Ready, Kolya"_ Rarby grunted his own readiness.

Althea did not say a word.

Kolya's lips shaped a small, humorless smile. Without further comment, he opened the cage and went inside.

Lynex stood in the centre of the cage, his jaws parted so that his teeth showed. To Althea it was a mocking grin, but to anyone unfamiliar with the Wraith, the pose looked watchful and dangerous—indeed, humor or not, it _was_ watchful and dangerous. He didn't need language to make the threat any more clear.

But Kolya was efficient and quick as he placed the food on the ground and pressed a button on a water-trough contraption, filling it up. He was up and out even before Althea could react. He left them, without another look toward the Lanteans. Even though Lynex didn't translate, she could hear Sheppard throw a cutting remark to his back.

Althea went quickly to the food, suddenly famished. It was a sweetmeal mash, its sweet smell triggering her mouth to salivate. She ate quickly, bolting it down. It was hot and weighty. Within minutes it was all gone. She drank to wash it down. When she was finished, she turned to look at Lynex, who continued to remain in the centre of his cage.

He was glaring at her, angry and morose at the same time.

_ "What gives them the right to ask your name?" _he demanded hoarsely. _"And what gives _you_ the right to answer!"_

Althea walked over to him, though maintaining a respectful distance. They were once of a height; now he was taller.

"It was a sacrifice that was needed to be taken, Lynex. It was only with the truth of my name did I sense some sort of trust between us," she said slowly, as if she wanted to set her mind at rest.

_ "Damn all trust!" _Lynex snapped sharply, strangely lacking that infamous Wraithish inner-control. _"The Leader may have let you converse with the humans, but that doesn't mean to be serious with this!"_

Her limbs had begun to feel strangely heavy and numb. An unpleasant warmth stole through her. The cloying taste of sweetmeal clung sticky to her mouth.

"I meant what I said," Althea said coolly, a little hurt. "You should I known that from the beginning."

_ "Giving your name so readily like—like—you didn't care!" _he exclaimed, eyes flashing with something she had never seen before.

"What are you saying?" Althea demanded. She had never expected such a heated reaction.

_ "Gave herself as freely as a harlot," _Morgar's smug voice floated, _"As though the world was a courtship. Weanling sop, what have she ever done but nuzzle up to humans and Lanteans?"_

Beneath her calm exterior, her temper was rising.

"Untrue," she grated. "It does not trouble either of you. Whether I give my name is my own choosing."

_ "But to the Lanteans," _said Lynex, clenching his fists, struggling against the helpless and inevitable expression this strange and baffling anger. _"You had no right!"_

_ "What did I tell you, Ly-nex?"_ yawned Morgar, as if bored. _"Pledging with humans. Corrupted."_

Althea was half-choked with indignation and humiliation. She was astonished, stung. How dare he spit such filth at her! And yet, she did give her name_,_ the very being of herself. Only between extremely close or trustworthy companions did Wraith reveal their callings. And even worse was that Lynex didn't even retort to Morgar, but remained silent, staring in disgust at her.

The scent of sweetmeal lingered in her nostrils, sickeningly sweet. She felt flushed suddenly, and very thirsty.

"Judge me not on my stupidity," she said, ignoring Morgar and focusing on Lynex. "I am in the same state of desperation as you. Alea jacta est—the die is cast. I cannot take it back."

_ "But how could you? Not even freedom should be worth this high price!" _Lynex implored, beginning to pace. _"And to humans!"_

"Maybe it is worth it!" Althea retorted, reckless, bringing the other up short. "Deal with it, Lynex! Right now, I would gladly give my name if it meant getting out of this cage!"

Astonished, Lynex halted and stared at her with hurt, brooding eyes. It was as if her words had caused him pain.

Suddenly the cage was too small. She needed to get away, get far, far away where she could vent and sulk without anyone else around. Oblivious, Warrior slept. Moving away, she suddenly stumbled. Her own clumsiness amazed her. Her limbs felt heavy. The bittersweet mash lay in her belly, as weighty as a stone.

_ "They beguiled you! Maybe Morgar's right—maybe you don't give a—"_

Whirling, strangely losing control, Althea half-shouted, "Enough, Lynex! I want none of this talk—and anyway, what's your deal about them? What is making you act like this? Where is the Lynex I know? They have done you no hurt, so stop it! We need to get out of this place, and you're not helping! The humans are our only hope right now, so don't screw this up!"

A long moment of shocked silence. Lynex, immobile, stared at her, as if deeply upset and startled. Althea swayed slightly on her feet. She blinked to clear her vision.

The Wraith's voice grew distant, a deep, raw whisper.

_ "Very well." _

With an effort, Althea turned to study him. She staggered. Her lips were sluggish, tongue unaccountably thick. She had trouble completing thoughts. She felt an unexplainable aggressiveness mingled with irritation. And yet, as she gazed upon Lynex's carefully neutral face, she knew she had wounded him deeply. What have she done? she thought, staggering on her feet. The stark truth struck her like lightning. What had she done. She had seen the surprise on her friend's face. And perhaps, too late, a touch of realization she had made an error. A very bad error.

She grew dizzy. Her vision blurred. He seemed no more than a black and green shadow. Her legs collapsed under her. The depth of her abrupt fatigue astonished her.

Lynex turned away, head held so high so she could not see his humiliation before darkness muffled all.

…

…

…

Criticism welcomed.


	14. Setting Broken Bones

**A.N—**Edited 6/11/10

"Setting Broken Bones"

.s.

Awakening, Althea felt sluggish, strangely fatigued, though she was aware she must have slept long and deep. Her mouth felt gummy, dry. She stirred, trying to gather her clumsy limbs. With great effort, she heaved herself up and stumbled to the water trough and drank deeply.

When she finished, she just sat and tried to blink away the heavy sleep from her eyes. Hazy memories filled her mind as she collected her thoughts and bearings. Shame filled her, as well as roiling confusion and anger. When she remembered her outburst to Lynex, her face flushed. How could she possibly make amends? she thought in dismay. Lynex was her only friend, and she treated him harshly.

Uncomfortable and apprehensive, she got up slowly and walked over to Warrior's still, sleeping side. She was worried for him suddenly: he seemed so fragile with his pallid skin and closed eyes. And yet she could feel the cool strength emanating from him as he always had, the strength of the thoughtful one who does nothing on impulse, the one who sees from all angles, who chooses his words with care.

Warrior, how she needed his guidance now. How would he react when he found out that she had given her name to ensure their survival? What if he was displeased? Disapproving? The weight of guilt and shame were far heavier burdens than the discomfort of feeling groggy.

.s.

She did not know how long she sat besides Warrior still-sleeping form, preoccupied and agitated. In the background, she could hear the faint whisperings and low talk of the Lanteans. They must be speaking to each other about her proposal, she thought dully. The rusty-bladed pains of emotions warred within her. Her heart hurt deeply. The mere separation pained her to her core.

Wait a minute—why was she acting like this? Sulking and bruised, she had even refused to look at her companion. And even worse, she had let Morgar irk her to the point of outrage which Lynex took the brunt of. What kind of a friend was she? She disgusted herself. What would Warrior say when he saw her, afraid of even speaking to Lynex? One thing she knew was that she should treat this situation like a wound: leave it unattended and it would fester and get infected. Clean it with stinging disinfectants and it will heal.

With purpose and the determination that set her apart as a Wraith, Althea rose and bluntly walked straight to the kneeling, brooding form of Lynex. Already her decision lifted her spirits a bit. Ignoring Morgar's gaze, she sat a little ways from him, letting him register her presence without encroaching his space.

The two of them sat, neither of them speaking. Lynex stared straight ahead, as if ignoring her. Althea kept silent as well, feeling the atmosphere thicken and begin to grow uncomfortable. She wanted to say something—anything—but words just didn't seem to fit. To her uttermost surprise, it was Lynex whom broke the quiet first.

_ "What do you want, Little Dagger?"_

Her throat felt constricted and thick. She struggled to sound and remain calm, yet failing.

"Forgive me, Lynex. I spoke most harshly."

Lynex continued to look ahead, looking half-asleep.

_ "Only just as harshly as I,"_ he growled softly, in a subdued tone.

Althea shook her head as if bothered by bees.

"That doesn't change anything. I spoke ill to you, and I—I hate this," she cried. "I can't stand this anymore, Lynex!" She flung herself before the astonished Wraith. "It's just when I saw how you got so mad and how I treated you, I thought I would die in shame. I have shamed you, Lynex, and I am so sorry! I implore you, judge me not on my rashness! I gave my name, Lynex!" she wailed. "You were right—freedom isn't worth that much. It was stupid, and Lynex, please don't hate me anymore."

His entire back rippled as he stiffened. He stared straight at her.

_ "What?"_

She couldn't look into his eyes.

"Please . . . please don't hate me."

He hissed very hollowly, his voice a deep, raw whisper.

_ "I . . . don't hate you."_

Althea looked up in her own astonishment.

"Then why, Lynex?"

That look came back into his eye, that strange light that she had never seen before. He paused, as if he wanted to say something more, something in particular.

_ "Little Dagger, I . . ."_

He paused again, as if speaking was difficult.

_ "It's just . . . I was jealous. There . . . I said it. It angered me to see you that human exchanging your name as if you knew him."_

He shook his head, as if suddenly irritable. He spoke no more.

Althea was so stunned at this unexpected confession that she was struck dumb. It had never occurred to her—_never_—that Lynex may feel protective of her in such a way. Although he himself had not bonded with any female that she knew of, she knew he favored her. Why? She herself didn't know—another thing she was blind of. And yet, even though she had paid less attention to the dynamics amongst the Wraith females, Althea observed that they were all the more interested in Lynex because he refused to fawn over them. But what did this mean? She sighed inwardly. Yet another thing she was blind to.

Lynex refused to look at her, as if suddenly unsure.

Althea wanted to say something as deep and as important as he—but nothing came to mind. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, that she'd sought shelter under his presence and he had protected her throughout her young life. She wanted to say she would never forget this, and that she would never do anything again to upset him in such a way that she had done. She wanted to say she would do anything he wished of her, anything at all.

But it would be pointless to say so.

_ "You were, in the earliest years, like a sister. Then, you were a companion growing up—strong, loyal, brave,"_ Lynex suddenly said, almost as if brooding upon it, face very relaxed. _"I alone knew you. But when you were speaking to that human . . . and when you gave your name, a name in which I had earned after so many years . . . it—it just seemed . . . unfair."_ He did not speak further, perhaps through discomfort, perhaps because he didn't have the words for what he was feeling.

A terrible weight suddenly lifted off her breast as Althea gazed fondly up at her companion. His words soothed her as a mother cat's tongue might sooth a ruffled kitten's fur. Even the darkness and imprisonment didn't feel so bad. Her Lynex, with his un-humanness, his facial slits, his mustachio-lacking chin, his cat-slitted eyes and greenish cast.

_ "It can't be undone easily,"_ he said now. His voice was deliberately gentle, almost conciliatory or imploring.

What was he talking about? she thought. Oh, yes . . . joining forces with the Lanteans. They seemed to be important, like the background buzz on a warfield. Nothing mattered at this moment except closing the separation between her and Lynex.

"I know," Althea murmured. "But I fear we have no choice."

_ "Whatever we do, it must be done quickly,"_ Lynex rumbled. He shifted his weight, as if edgy.

A sudden thought trickled in the back of her mind that made Althea suddenly go quiet.

"Lynex . . . are you hungry?"

Something sudden appeared on his face; a predatory glaze. But what was stronger than his hunger? His will.

_ "I am not hungry,"_ he said in a curt fashion that forbore disagreement. _"Wraith don't eat as much as humans."_

Althea snorted in amusement for the first time in what seemed like days.

"You are hungry. I can see it in your eyes."

Lynex looked at her, jaw clenching and unclenching slowly. Wraith eat on a period of one or two humans every one and a half-week. The younger they were, the more times they had to eat to be satisfied. Also, the younger they were, the harder it would be to control and keep their hunger in check. The older and stronger the Wraith, the less times they had to feed—and even then, they were satisfied for longer. The man whom Lynex had fed upon was now nearly a week ago. And with all Wraith . . . the hungrier they were, the sharper-tempered and easier irritable they became.

Lynex only gave a guttural grunt.

_ "I can control it," _he said, no question or doubt on his voice.

Althea shrugged, trusting her companion. Suddenly weary, she scooted from in front of him to resting her head on his square shoulder. The intimate contact soothed her. She could feel him relax beneath her.

_ "Tell me, Little Dagger," _he said after a while as they both stared at nothing. _"What did you think when the one called Sheppard told you about our feeding? It does not affect you? When I get out of this damned place, I will feed."_

Althea snuggled closer to him, the clean and masculine scent husky and cobwebby in her nose.

"Life consist in eating other creatures. In this case, the humans are our food. And the their principle is to furnish that food," she said offhandedly, trying to act of if she didn't care.

He looked at her through the corner of his eye.

_ "Not considering it cannibalism, Little Dagger? They look so much like you . . ."_

"That comes from eating the meat of a friend," growled Althea, playfully punching his shoulder. "Let's talk about something else. I have enough of this topic with the humans."

_ "Yes," _he agreed with a soft hiss. _"They hate our kind, you know. And they hate me for the large things."_

Althea said nothing, looking at the small huddle of the Lanteans in the corner of their own cage.

_ "We are killers in their eyes."_

"Killing is not a personal act—it is a function and a duty of nature."

_ "And the real pain I feel is that I understand decency, and I respect it. I am the ideal of my kind. I am the perfect Wraith. I have conscience,"_ he said, his expression changing again. There was an element of gloating bitterness, but something softer, too. _"I know right from wrong, and I knew what I do, and yes, I do it and will continue doing it. But these humans only see us as killers, and not our other half."_

"Because you don't show them it?" Althea suggested, smile on her face.

A sharp riff of laughter.

.s.

Althea sat, cross-leggèd as before, in front of Sheppard. This time, though slightly at a distance, the other humans waited and listened behind him. 'Teyla,' 'Ronon,' 'Rodney,' and 'Sheppard.' What an odd bunch of Lanteans to be put in all the same cage.

Sheppard spoke with no preambles and seriously, as if he had realized that Althea wasn't just someone to exchange banter with.

_ "We've agreed."_

_ "Well, not all of us," _muttered the scientist. _"I'm still a bit iffy one following a scantily dressed Xena Warrior Princess and a bunch of life-sucking—"_

_ "But we've still all agreed,"_ cut Sheppard smoothly, fixing the other with a peremptory hardness that shut the other right up.

Hearing this, Althea felt a secret triumph, savoring Sheppard admission that aiding her and her fellows might have its merits.

"Good. Then we can think of something."

_ "I'm always opened to suggestions," _he said, smiling. He probably didn't know how radiant and seductive the smile could be. _"Got any ideas?"_

Althea shook her head.

"No, I don't. I was hoping we could come up with something soon." She allowed the smallest of frowns. "The Wraith grow hungry, and I am afraid whatever purpose they hold to the Genii would be disastrous to them."

Sheppard gave a small nod, glancing at Lynex. Lynex coolly looked at him back.

_ "Too bad he can't eat like us," _he said. _"Then we wouldn't have such a time-limit—which sleeping on us didn't really help much."_

"Sleep?" Althea said, not certain whether or not she was being insulted.

_ "Your food has been tainted," _the woman suddenly spoke up. Althea looked over Sheppard's shoulder to see her.

"Tainted?" she repeated slowly. "Tainted feed?"

_ "The food ordered for you was laced with dreamroot. It induces trance, making the rebellious docile to the captors' will," _Teyla said, each word carefully clipped. Even her expression seemed clipped, or lacking friendly warmth.

Althea felt her gorge rise. She'd not touch another mouthful of that tainted meal! But as she thought about it, an idea came to mind.

"What if . . . what if we use it to our advantage. They may not know we know. A trap could be sprung from it. 'Flat folded ears do not hear as clearly as those carried alert'."

_ "That's a new one,"_ Sheppard muttered. _"See, Rodney? You learn something every day."_

Rodney snorted. _"Something you find hard to do,"_ he snarked. Sheppard only grinned, but continued on a more serious note.

_ "So we are planning on a distraction. The Genii see you . . . and you pretend to act like you've been drugged. They open the door for whatever reason, and you . . . well, do what you do best. You get us out since you don't have any weapons, since we have. _

Althea nodded, musing.

"Sounds well enough. But if we would be able to free ourselves, we would have no sense of direction. We wouldn't know where to go."

_ "We've been around the complex before. We know where our things are—and yours, too, probably. We get them, give the Genii a little hell, and be back before supper."_

"If this is to work," Althea said slowly, thoughtfully, feeling the trill of excitement in her blood, "you must promise no to bring harm upon my companions. If we are to carry through the day, we must overcome our . . . differences." She couldn't help but gaze at Ronon. He only wrinkled his nose at her. "They are hungry, and they will feed on the first thing that comes to them."

Sheppard's face went blank. He looked at her for a long moment, his face full of a sort of troubled wonder and then nodded slowly as if accepting this. But he was very far from accepting it.

_ "And I will expect the same from them. Most of us—" _he said with a raised eyebrow at the flustered Rodney, _"—know how to defend ourselves." _He leaned forward, serious and somber. _"We have their word?"_

Althea glanced at Lynex. Since he was the translator, he didn't need anything to be repeated. Lynex spoke to Sheppard silkily, answering on his own.

Lynex drew back his lips and showed Sheppard his fangs for a second. Althea could have snorted with exasperation and amusement. They were very small, actually, nothing compared to a leopard or a tiger's. But this grimace always frightens humans. It does more than frighten them. It actually shocks them. It sent some primal message of alarm through the organism which has little to do with its conscious courage or sophistication.

But it was his way of promising, for Wraith smile to show how sharp their teeth were.

To his credit, Sheppard did not react in the slightest, only giving the barest of nods. Rodney visibly gulped and fidgeted behind Telya, whose neutral mask did not sway in the least. It was only Ronon that growled.

Althea nodded, understanding the weight of the promise. Then, with formality, she said, "I gave you my name. Amongst the Wraith . . . that is the uttermost symbol of trust. I trust you, Sheppard of the Lanteans, and whilst your own companions follow you, I trust them. Will you allow me a sign of your own trust in us?"

Sheppard drew his brows together.

_ "As long as I don't have to sing . . . I think I'm good."_

"Good," she said in a low voice, leaning forward slightly. She lifted her hand and touched his face. The gesture clearly startled him; he became motionless, like an animal in the woods who suddenly sensed danger where there had been none before. But his expression remained calm, and she let her fingers rest against his slightly unshaven skin. Then she moved them down slowly, feeling the firmness of his jawbone, and then placed her hand on his neck. The skin was firm, surprisingly muscular, and a clean, youthful masculine scent.

She sat back.

"We are ready."

And even when Althea and Lynex withdrew, Lynex couldn't help but translate Rodney's parting remark:

_ ". . . and what ever happened to the simple handshake?. . ."_

…

…

…

Constructive criticism welcomed.


	15. Escape

**A.N—**Edited 6/11/10.

.

"Escape"

.s.

She was shivering, struggling to remain calm, but not with cold; she was close to utter nervousness. Over the course of the next few hours, she had become more and more deeply entangled in all the age-old terrors of the conspirator. What if the Genii sensed something was amiss? What if they already knew they were planning something? Had they noticed that both parties had been speaking to each other? What if they knew of the alliance? How long could it be before she took the final step of fitting all these things together? Perhaps they had already done so and were merely waiting to arrest them in their own time?

With grim pushes of will, Althea strove to ease her mind. If her mind kept up along this train of thought, she would be worn out with her apprehensions ever before they actually got the chance for escape.

The Genii had every advantage. Every single advantage, except for surprise, unless the Genii already knew? But how could they? The room had been empty when they had made their plans, but they may have their ways . . .

They would get only one chance. Just one. If they failed. . . . Dismal fancies of anxiety tormented her unsettled mind. They would take Warrior again. They would test out their salt-water drugs and make him deathly sick again. Or take Lynex, and test on him. Or worse.

Death.

Althea feigned sleep, pretending that she was still knocked out by the tainted sweetmeal. She was sprawled on her uninjured side, wounded arm resting on hip. Outwardly, she looked as if peaceful, breaths slow and rhythmic. Somewhere behind her, Lynex kneeled in his usual position, eyes closed. Morgar, understanding what was going on, pretended his own tranquility, though his yellow eyes were slitted. Warrior dozed, struggling from time to time to stay awake.

The Lanteans waited too, hardly speaking. They sat, subtly tense, close to the cage's door. Waiting. Watching.

Eager.

.s.

Footsteps. Three Genii.

Althea instinctually tensed before forcing herself in time to go limp. _Must be asleep, must be asleep_, she thought giddily, adrenaline spiking in her veins. She opened an eye a barest crack, staring straight at the black leather tips of a pair of boots. Kolya. It was only him that wore those types of shoes. All the others wore something less superior.

Low, foreign talk. Even though Lynex didn't dare translate, Althea thought he sounded scornful. Mocking. Probably just noticed that she was prone right in front of the door, she thought a little smugly to herself. That's right. Think us tamed, beaten. Get overconfident. Open the door and find yourselves one damn good surprise.

The clank of keys. The metallic swing of the door. The smell of cloying sweetmeal wafted to her nostrils; she wanted to gag.

No, she wanted to do something better.

Her eyes flew open as she, direct and deliberate, stared straight into Kolya's eyes.

He made a small sound of surprise, and Althea lunged. His surprise made him slow. With a grunt, he fell heavily to the floor and she flew to his side, snarl flashing. The sweetmeal flew out of his hand.

He punched her on a shoulder, face thunderous. Corkscrews of pain filled her vision. She snarled in pain and surprise, tears of pain sharply filling her eyes. Kolya tried rolling away, still within the doorway of the cage. Althea leapt after him, arm forgotten. Teeth flashing, she whacked him in defense, hard, across the temple before he could even react. He immediately went limp.

Althea was filled with animalistic joy, savage and powerful. Kolya was _down._

While she was dealing with Kolya, Lynex and Morgar rushed over her and toward the other guards. With an almost wolf-like sense of priorities, Lynex went for the one closest, darting and lithe. His leather trench-coat garment billowed as he whirled. He whacked him savagely across the chest. The Genii guard went reeling, crashing to the bars of the cage. Lynex would have roared his rage, but stealth was just as valuable as diligence now. Instead, filled in an aura of cold rage, he stalked toward the downed guard. Somewhere in the background, Morgar dealt with the other, pluming him with open-palmed blows.

"That one!" Althea cried, pointing to another gaping guard, just suddenly walking in. "Let no one be warned!"

Lynex snarled in reply as he left Rarby and attacked the other guard. Althea knew from experience that any fighter of any level or rank was susceptible of the power of confusion and surprise. Confusion makes you slow. Surprise slows your reaction. Such fate awaited the young guard as Lynex clouted him a fierce blow across the chest. The guard, mewling for air, bent double.

Lynex, filled with righteous wrath, did not let him catch his breath as he slammed the guard's head down to the floor. In a heartbeat, the Genii went limp.

All happened in the space of two minutes—at the most. And yet, all three of them were breathing heavily, adrenaline flowing merrily in their blood.

Althea was so filled with a mixture of fear and aggressiveness that it was as if her head was full of illuminating gas: a single spark and she would explode. She was some creature without a face. It had no face, but it did have a name—authority. Her breasts heaved rapidly. A sheen of sweat glistened on her brow. The smell of the cooling sweetmeal made her insides twist. Her face, all flush and livid pallor, blazed. Her lips were drawn back from her teeth in a fearsome smile. She looked terrified and frightened, as well as madly exhilarated.

She felt the exultation of a death-row convict freed in a freak earthquake, as well as the frustrating confusion of what to do next. Even both Wraiths seemed unsure of what to do. They stood stock still, trying to control their breathing. The shock of this freedom stupefied them.

Not good.

Althea herself took several deep breaths, literally pushing herself to become clear-headed. Time was of the essence. Who knew how long they would have before the Genii knew of their break out. _Think: free the Lanteans first. Keys, I need keys._

Althea went quickly to the unconscious Kolya's side. She knelt, brushing trembling and light fingers around for anything that might open the cage doors. Keys, keys, where were those damn keys?

Muffled and choked screams cut through her hyper-alert senses. She whirled her head, only to find both Lynex and Morgar feeding upon the guards. Lynex's eyes rolled up with the wonderful feeling of relief, snarling softly. The dreadlocked Wraith towered over his own prey, making hissing noises of pleasure.

Althea closed her eyes and looked away. She may live and love Wraith, but her own humanity prevented her from watching their feeding. Something deep inside her was revolted and repulsed. It was only the feeding process that she felt that way; any other time it was silent. In fact, it was only when Wraith fed did Althea truly notice the difference between them. Only recognized them as Wraith.

Althea continued looking for the keys, and gave a soft snort of gratitude when she found them. She got up and swiftly went to the Lanteans' door. As she approached, she could sense their eyes on her every movement.

Expectant.

Appraising.

Althea fumbled with the keys, a little unsure of how to use them. Sheppard was there by the door, as if wanting to be the first to open the door. His masculine scent reminded her of Lynex, overpowering and heady. His quick, piercing look made her shy, unexplainably. Why? He was just a human male. Heat rose to her cheeks as she finally heard the satisfying _click!_ of the key.

She swung the door and backed away, allowing them to free themselves. Sheppard walked out first, followed closely by Rodney and the woman, Teyla. Ronon swaggered out last, hulking and imposing. For a long moment, she and them looked at each other, as if testing the water. In all but with Ronon, something had relaxed within them—as if they were accepting her for once. Yielding to her, tolerating her bond with the Wraith.

But why?

Though she didn't realize it, they had seen her discomfort when the Wraith had been feeding. Somehow, it redeemed her in a way, proving that she wasn't entirely heartless to all that the Wraith did. She may stand by them and accept them, but she was still human deep inside. And that knowledge made it easier for them to accept her.

But would Althea ever know this? Probably not.

Sheppard said something, eyebrows disappearing into his crop of messy hair. Althea felt a fluttering in her belly as she realized that she could understand. One day she would force Lynex to teach her the Common tongue, she mused.

Althea blinked, and then pointed toward the doorway. Sheppard narrowed his eyes as his gaze landed on the two adolescent Wraiths, now each backing away from the dried up corpses. Mistrust and wariness resurfaced.

"Lynex, I need help with Warrior," she said, drawing her lanky companion's attention back to her.

Lynex turned and saw that the Lanteans were out of their cages. Morgar did too, although his sharp look was veiled by something else. Coolly, as if the events meant little or nothing to him, he turned away. Althea paid him no mind, though somewhere in her mind mentally pleading to him to behave _just_ this once.

Lynex walked slowly toward the Lanteans, measured and dignified. Now that he had fed and the predator gleam in his eye once again in firm control, he could tolerate their presences easier. He stopped just a yard away from them, impassively looking each one over. He received just the same neutral, guarded faces from the humans, although the powerful rugged one seemed more hostile than neutral.

Althea caught Lynex's eye. He returned her gaze impassively, with the barest hint of a nod.

Turning to the humans, she said, "We have honoured our part of the bargain. Lead us out of here, Sheppard of the Lanteans."

_ "And you're positive they're . . ."_

"Yes," Althea nodded firmly. "They will obey you and your people and we will follow you without struggle. You have our word."

A pause seemed to last forever in a few seconds.

_ "Alright. We'll go to the weapons' room and pick up our things,"_ Sheppard said with a peremptory firmness that held no hesitation or sway in his voice. Althea bowed to his greater knowledge and experience. He was a Leader, no doubt. _"Rodney and Teyla—stay in the middle and keep a lookout for any Genii you see. I don't want them knowing that we wanted a scenery change. Ronon—bring the rear and—" _in a lower voice, _"—keep an eye on our 'buddies'. No offense, Miss . . . er . . . Little Dagger," _smiled Sheppard in a louder tone when he realized that Lynex hadn't stopped translating.

Althea's quirked slightly. She didn't care for them to completely trust her. All what she cared about was escaping. If they wanted to keep an eye on her and the Wraith, she would let them.

"Lynex . . .?"

Lynex turned away from the humans and followed Althea back into the cage. She seemed dauntingly sure and confident, but Lynex could see her tense readiness. She knelt by the senior Wraith, gripping an upper arm tight. Warrior's green eyes flew open. They were unfocused for a second before he fully acknowledged the both of them.

_ "Little Dagger, what's . . ."_

"No time, Warrior," Althea hissed breathlessly, trying to help him up. "The cage door is opened and our captors don't know it yet, and we must make haste. We have to follow the Lanteans—"

Warrior ceased his struggles to become upright for a second to stare up at her in unmasked surprise.

_ "Oh?"_

There was no meanness in his tone, no challenge, only the subtle desire to know.

"Please, Warrior. Trust me. I promise I'll tell you everything later, but we have to move—"

Warrior shouldered her away, grasping at the cage bars. He would help himself up. Amongst the Wraith, there was no such thing as coddling weakness, and this state of weakness he was in made him terse toward any help offered. Althea could have snorted.

He struggled to his feet, breathing carefully masked. His eyes were hooded and face impassive, though Althea could tell from his subtle wincing that there would be no way he could make it out of here alone. And time was running out.

"Lean on Lynex, Warrior," she said, having to nudge Lynex not-so-gently toward Warrior. All of the sudden, Lynex had become hesitant and unsure. But Althea was adamant on not leaving behind and if by God she had to hit him, he would help Warrior.

After a few not-so-friendly growls, Warrior realized that he would need to accept the help. He wasn't as powerful as he was thanks to the lingering aftereffects of the salt-water drug. Thus said, after an uncomfortable moment of posture switching and weight changing, Lynex finally maneuvered his head under one of Warrior's arms. That arm draped over his own shoulder, which he grasped the hand firmly so Warrior wouldn't slip.

Warrior was limp and cooperative, only growling faintly at the whole idea itself.

But good enough.

"Good, good. We have to follow Sheppard," she urged, licking her lips. The musty smell of the cage was stifling. She had the overpowering urge to run anywhere. It didn't matter. To _do_ something.

Althea moved out of the cage, kicking the prone figure of Kolya out of the way. Lynex and Warrior followed, pausing briefly to growl something at Sheppard. The human leader shot something back coolly, and then began to lead the escapees out of the cage room. They went first with Ronon bringing up the rear, he watching as Lynex and Warrior trailed behind. Althea quickly glanced at Morgar. The dreadlocked Wraith's eyes were narrowed and nose wrinkled in distaste as he watched Warrior lean heavily upon Lynex.

.s.

A metallic watery smell filled her nostrils as, swift and silent shadows, they ran down the long corridors. Huge bellies of pipes hung from the low-cast and dimly lighted ceilings. Longer, narrower pipes rested on either side of the tunnels, forcing the people to trot in the middle. It was like being forced through a tube. The compactness made her sweat and become on edge; if they had to fight they would have no room. No place to return the attack. Trapped.

More than once, Althea thought that they were lost in this concrete underground labyrinth. She would chock up and feel despair lodge in her throat. Of course, that only lasted a few seconds when up ahead Sheppard would take another turn and lead them off somewhere else.

Minute details sprang into sharp focus. Her eyes traced outlines of cracks, saw every little puddle. Everything seemed the same. It was now she realized that they needed the Lanteans to escape: there would have been _no way_ for her and her kin to find their way around. Then again, how could they have ever come to such knowledge? How could Sheppard have known where to go . . .? Were they once allies themselves? Did they once trust each other?

Ahead of her, Sheppard stopped. Low words were exchanged with the female, Teyla. A high-pitched chatter, too fast and too choppy. Rodney. _No doubt speaking to his leader_, she thought to herself as the procession moved again but this time into a smaller room. Where there any guards? Where were the Genii?

Ah, no matter. She didn't want to see their ugly faces, anyway.

It was a small room, filled and bristling with all sorts of weapons. Expertly, Sheppard reached into a pile and pulled out a weapon—theirs, Althea assumed—and began to toss them to each of his members. He rapped several hushed orders to Rodney and Teyla. Rodney visibly paled as he and Teyla cocked and loaded their weapons. Ronon, however, received a different sort of weapon—a pistol-thing, which he charged. He growled something low to Sheppard. Sheppard looked at Althea, then to the three Wraiths.

Warrior coolly ignored him, concentrating on breathing and keeping his damnable weakness under control. Lynex said nothing, as if waiting for Warrior to speak first. Morgar only glared at the Lanteans haughtily.

_ Pompous idiot_, Althea thought.

"Where are our weapons?"

He shrugged, cocking his own weapon. _"Their own scientists must be experimenting on them or something—Rodney? What would _you_ do if you got your paws on Wraith technology?"_

_ "Oh, I see now. You think you have us scientists all figured out, that we're utterly different from you trigger-happy people! Something new comes up, you come to us for help! And when you're . . . you're . . ." _Rodney became flustered and confused when he remembered Lynex was translating. It was so weird to have a Wraith speak when he was speaking, that he just shut up. Too much attention was directed to him.

_ "Just—just stick with us and we'll lead you out. Besides, if we have weapons, I don't see the logic in getting some for you when we're here," _said Sheppard.

_ "You never see logic,"_ Rodney murmured, loud enough for Lynex to translate. Rodney, again, became flustered and squeaked something indignantly to Lynex, made bold by the adrenaline in his blood. Lynex offered him an apologetic grin that looked more like a threat. Then again, Lynex was counting on it.

"Very well, we'll follow without our weapons," Althea said, as if she could physically feel time slip through her fingers and feel the tension build. "Lead us."

.s.

They were soclose. Even as Althea ran behind humans, she could sense the change in the air. It was fresher, less musty and metallic. Less like a basement. They had run into three patrols, each time quickly ducking behind corners or underneath pipes. Luck had been with them and they had gone undetected. Althea was slightly grateful that she didn't have a weapon in her hand or else she probably would have fired it from edginess and raw nerves.

But then again, opportunity wasn't a lasting companion.

They were so close to the secret 'trapdoor' that Sheppard spoke so bitterly and fondly of when they ran right in another Genii patrol, five strong. And at its head was Kolya, a nasty bruise alongside his head. Althea froze, her mouth cottony-dry, her back itchy with sweat. Her hot breath plunged up and down her throat as she watched the following scene in a dazed tumble.

Caught.

Kolya's surprise didn't last long. He sneered.

_ "I am impressed. I thought the cages would hold you. I admit to underestimating your capacities."_

That was before Sheppard and his crew opened fire as a reply, their weapons cutting through the Genii's number. Kolya—once again Althea grudgingly admired for his clear-thinking and tact—cut his body out of the way just before the lethal rain of bullets. He was shielded by a corner, no doubt in her mind calling for recruitments.

Sheppard bellowed something to all of them when all members of the patrol were downed. Although Althea didn't understand his words, his gesture was clear enough: climb up the ladder and get out of here. She needed no further encouragement. She watched as Teyla and Rodney quickly climbed it, followed by Ronon. Sheppard flicked his head, as if in encouragement, since the greater threat of the Genii momentarily washed away any distrust.

Morgar, without waiting, immediately climbed up the metal rungs. Lynex followed more slowly, still acting as a support for Warrior. Warrior growled lowly to himself as Lynex led him to the ladder, but complied reluctantly at being led around like a mere youngling. When he finally made it, Lynex quickly looked over to Althea. Words would have been a waste of precious time, so he swiftly climbed up after Warrior.

_ My__ turn_, she thought, madly exhilarated and high-strung from the recent skirmish. Without pausing she flew herself at it and clung up, the thick coppery smell of the rungs assaulting her nostrils.

.s.

As Althea had predicted, it didn't take long for the Genii to be swarming all over the clash with the patrol and their escape. Should have killed Kolya when she had a chance, she thought as she ran toward the Ring alongside Sheppard. It was hot, with a brisk wind. The sky was the colour of blue flame, matching her mood. Grass as high as her ribs swayed as one stalk in the afternoon breeze.

Sheppard looked over his shoulder once, and then pulled out a little trigger-thing. Althea glanced at it briefly, not really caring what it was until he pressed a button. Behind them, there was a roar that sent a tremble through the ground. Flames and black smoke roiled out of the house's windows. Althea felt her heart thump. An explosion!

They didn't pause as they raced to the Ring, to find Rodney dialing the gate. Ronon and Teyla held their weapons firmly and stared at Morgar, who returned the gaze angrily. Behind the dreadlocked Wraith, Warrior was gasping for breath and on one knee, his breathing coming out in ragged wheezing. Lynex stayed by him, more than a little unsure of what to do. He knew that Warrior did not appreciate him hovering over him, and the last thing he wanted was a fierce rebuff from the second-in-command.

Teyla hailed Sheppard, speaking with forced calm. Althea didn't need a translator to figure out that she was talking about the Wraith. Instead, as if to ease herself, Althea went to Warrior's side. His strange weakness forced him to rest—and even she wouldn't even _dream_ of asking Lynex to carry him. The line would be drawn there.

_ "Let's leave him," _Morgar said, wrinkling his nose at the Leader. _"He's too weak to continue, anyway."_

"Never!" Althea snapped, angered by his offhand manner and his very suggestion.

Morgar's eyes glittered something dark, as if pleased with Althea's reaction.

_ "Face it, Lit-tle Dag-ger. He can't even stand on his own two feet! He's nothing to us anymore."_

_ "The only reason why you're talking like this,"_ growled Lynex, _"is because Warrior is too weak to kill you where you stand for such rebelliousness."_ His quiet, controlled voice belied his great anger, but did not hide it.

_ "Oh, so _you're_ also seduced by her logic?"_ Morgar laughed, the sound causing Althea's skin to crawl. _"Groveling to weak Leaders! To such lows you have gone, Lynex! You and your stupid strumpet."_

"Leave Lynex out of this!" she shouted, outraged, before Lynex could retort. She didn't notice that the humans had ceased speaking to each other to watch, solemnly. Her back muscles rippled with threat. She felt reckless, bold. "And we're not leaving Warrior!"

_ "He's not fit to lead, foolish whelp!"_ he spat, baring his teeth. _"He's no Leader anymore!"_

"Leadership doesn't just belong to those whom are physically strong," Althea shot back. "A leader should be dependable, trustworthy, and know what they are doing! So what he's weak right now—are you blind enough to not remember that he was drugged? Besides, the Leader of the hunt is the one who knows where the animals will be and when they will be there; his is the one who can track them. Warrior can still do that, Morgar, so I see no reason to leave him here!" Althea was lecturing, venting her anger, oblivious to Morgar's glowering face. The old resentment, so long unspoken, roiled up within her now.

Morgar was scowling. Her words had no effect on him, but he didn't like the scolding tone of her voice. It was as if she though she had the right to speak so freely, or to presume to tell him anything. He lowered his head and snarled.

_ "We leave him."_

"No." A cold rage such as she had never known seized her, displacing fear.

_ "What . . . did you say?" _Morgar hissed, drawing each word out slowly, threateningly. The air around them was super-charged with thick, stifling tension. Somewhere in the unimportant background, the humans stood together, not saying anything, wide-eyed behind astonished masks. Even further back were the faint sounds of fire.

"You heard me: I said _no._"

_ "And who are you to say no to me, harlot!" _Morgar said. _"You were never one of the clan! Wild, unschooled, spurning tradition at every turn. Alliances with humans and Lanteans! Allowing them to lead us as if we were younglings! I saw you, strumpet, looking at the human males! I—"_

_ "Enough!"_

The word burst from Warrior, its force bringing the other up short.

_ "Enough! For fourteen years you have railed against my ward, Morgar,"_ he said calmly with his infamous cold anger, _"yet offered no justification for your charge. Leave off, I say!"_

Morgar looked as if he had been struck by lightening. His first instinct was to obey Warrior, but after a moment of watching him struggle for breath, he caviled.

_ "I needn't listen to you anymore! You're weak and worthless now—nothing but a crippled Wraith who can't stand on his own two feet!"_

Warrior only stared back at him in astonishment. Inside he was raging at his helplessness and wanted nothing more than to teach this upstart usurper a harsh lesson.

Lynex was just about to rush at him, such was his anger. But Althea beat him to it.

"Take that back!" Althea shouted, coming forward. A mixture of fear and aggression flashed out at him. All of her wide-eyed nerviness was on her face now. It was all around her, an aura that seemed almost invisible, a high-tension charge that seemed to make her more dangerous than she had seemed to him in years. Her teeth set, anger throttling her. She felt the long-stretched temper give way as a bowstring might after being strung too long.

_ "Bitch!" _the Wraith said as Althea turned her back to him. _"You would impede me?"_

Althea turned around just in time to see Morgar flying at her, hands curled. Althea saw his intent and spun away. Pivoting, she waited for the Wraith to make his move first, forcing the Wraith to strike his first blow. Morgar stomped toward her, teeth bared, imposing and aggressive. But Althea did not move. She refused to be intimidated. It was only when he was close enough to kick her did she react, rolling hard to the right to avoid a fierce and rib-shattering lash from the Wraith. Using her momentum, she flung herself upward, striving to land on his back to get at the neck.

Morgar was quick and clever. He seemed to sense it and spun around, ducking the young woman's lunge. Off balance, Althea sailed overhead and twisted in mid air like a cat, landing on her four limbs just as a kick vibrated through her side.

Agony throbbed in waves, but it was dulled by the rush of adrenaline through her system. She pranced backward, snarling loudly, hatred in her eyes. Morgar crouched, growling, his arms spread wide. He was small for a Wraith but bigger than she, and if he managed to get his claws on her, the fight would be over.

So don't let it happen.

With a guttural roar, her enemy rushed her. He thrust one hand forward to swat at her head, easily enough power to break her neck. Althea sidestepped as she reached up and cupped his wrist with both of her hands, swung her upper body into his lunge, down and left. She let him do the work, simply redirecting his charge.

Surprised, he rolled, still landing heavily on one shoulder but not as bad as it would have been, his dreadlocks whipping his shoulders. His roared his anger. He furiously leapt for Althea. Althea sprang away in the nick of time, receiving a long gash along her belly from the Wraith's sharp claws, only to zigzag back, intent on finishing it. She leapt up.

With an expert twist of his hand, the Wraith grasped a foot and, still using her momentum, hurled her upward. Althea shot through the air, twisting like a cat, trying to land on her feet. She hit the ground, dazed. In that minute, she could hear her enemy coming closer. He was so sure that he has finished me, thought Althea indignantly. Think, think. A trick, a trick . . . ah! She tensed her shoulders, growling fiercely. She pretended that one of her legs were injured and that she couldn't use it. She scuttled backwards, her 'injured' leg straight and dragging in the ground. She continued to growl and snarl, her teeth flashing in the suns' light.

The attack came more swiftly than Morgar had anticipated and was not quick enough to deflect the blow to his ankles. He roared with surprise and anger and pain—quick and fleeting but pain nonetheless—erupted from his ankles. His roar mingled with Althea's screeching as she found what she was looking for.

Althea rolled hard, striking hard with her legs, rewarding her with a rumble of anger. She thrashed and kicked and spun, dancing her pattern of the fight, striking with a nimble body. Try as he might, as fast as he could, Morgar just couldn't seem to strike her. Like smoke. Like fighting pure smoke.

Using all the power she had, Althea dodged the arms and deadly clawed hands and kicked as hard as she could, her foot connecting his knee. He stumbled, surprise and pain flickering in his eyes as he put a hand on the spot where he was hit, his eyes flared.

She had little time to dwell on the thought when she had barely enough time to brace for the kick that hit her square in the ribs. She felt the wind rush out of her as she landed heavily on her side. She spat blood, her eyes slitted.

A shadow fell upon her as Morgar kicked her, hard, on her own knee. White hot pain lanced upward, causing her to arch her back in agony. She cried out. Morgar backed away, breathing heavily.

Althea looked down. Blood ran from the wound. It tricked down. Runnels of red spattered.

She stood one leggèd, favoring her right leg. She snorted blood in a fine scarlet spray.

"Well enough," Althea snarled, grey eyes leveled in a gaze of pure hatred, without a hint of resignation or surrender. "Try to take my life, if you dare."

But the killer blow never landed as, confident and smug, Morgar came forward.

Lynex darted in low and slashed with his claws. It was a long, ripping slice, and deep as well. His claws, in passing, burst the wall of the great vein of the throat. He leaped clear. He had felt anger beyond anything he had ever known when he saw Morgar going after her, hurting her, trying to take her. Never had Althea seen the expression of wrath stamped on his face. Never had she seen a perfect reflection of fury.

Morgar snarled terribly, but his snarl broke midmost into a trickling cough. He froze, as if transfixed, only to find that his wound would not heal as what normal wounds would do. It was just too deep and long. It was past healing. Panicking, bleeding and coughing, already stricken, he sprang at Lynex and fought while life faded from him. His legs went weak beneath him, the light of day dulling on his eyes, his blows and springs falling shorter and shorter.

Wraith justice was swift and final. He behaved without honour—ignoring all the rules of combat plus insulting a Leader, so he was left where he laid, his blood seeping into the dirt and through the flattened blades of flaxen. Lynex spat in contempt on the upturned carcass of his old enemy and then walked with dignity to Althea. Althea snorted more blood from her nose, the coppery smell thick in her senses.

"My hero," she croaked, wiping away the blood dripping from her nose. The pain in her leg was something fierce, but she controlled it inside.

Lynex gently brushed a wet strand of hair out of her eyes.

_ "High praise."_

In that moment, the background sounds rushed into Althea's ears. The Lanteans heard it too, for they all froze like deer scenting fire. The Genii. Angry, hard voices sounded in the fake village hiding their underground base. They were headed to the Stargate. For a moment, the Lanteans continued to look at Althea and Lynex. Then, one by one, they jogged into the gate.

Althea looked up at Lynex, raising one eyebrow. Lynex snorted, pursing his lips.

_ "We will beg for food through thick glass walls of our prisons as they ply us with questions, and extract samples of blood from our veins! Who is to say they won't do the same to us as the Genii?" _Lynex said, pleading. The sounds of the approaching Genii grew louder.

"We have no choice. It would take too long for us to dial another planet, and if we leave now the Genii will surely catch us again. And this time," Althea added quietly, "I doubt we will have such good luck as this time."

He stared at her, alien emotions on his face. Then that hooded look came to his face, along with a soft gust mingled of exasperation and amusement. They stared into each other's eyes, transfixed by something they could not explain but felt the force of: their evenly matched, though unique, emotions; the power of a charisma each possessed.

Warrior shifted his weight behind them, not bothering to hide the fact that he was exhausted. It was with that wordless gesture that broke them up. The movement brought the young woman and Wraith back to an awareness of where they were. Feeling inexplicable warmth and affection, and just a touch foolish because they didn't quite know what just happened, they helped Warrior up and together they walked through the gate and into Atlantis.

…

…

…

Constructive criticism welcomed.


	16. Right Back To Where It All Began

**A.N—**Thank you for your advice, **Black Panther**.

**A.N#2**—A light dusting of editing 6/11/10.

.

"Right Back to Where It All Began"

.s.

Althea's skin crawled with apprehension and tension knotted her belly when she stepped onto the other side. Next to her, she could feel Lynex tense involuntarily under his leather. His lips thinned and a hard, desperate look shaded his intense eyes. His eyes darted, as if looking for any escape routes. But that would have been folly since the second they walked through the gate; they were surrounded.

Utterly, wholly, encircled.

The first thing that struck her was that it was so well-lit and spacious, nothing to the darkness and closeness of a Hive ship. Light streamed down from glass-stained windows, making the dark-clad human guards a stark contrast. Even the staircase—large and alien—cased light. Strange plants grew tamely in pots. It smelt clean with a tinge of . . . of . . . Althea wrinkled her nose. She didn't know she was smelling the sea.

By now many humans had positioned themselves in places where any hit would be fatal, their weapons cocked. None spoke nor moved, their eyes and guns trained upon them. Althea hoped they wouldn't hear the sound of her own heart thudding in her ribcage. Inside she was quaking with fear, and yet curious. It was so alien to her. These humans—the Lanteans—seemed so much more advanced than the militaristic Genii. She desperately hoped they treated their prisoners better.

For a long moment, both parties were silent. It was so quiet and tense that when the Stargate shut down Althea had to force herself not to jump at the sound. She licked her lips nervously. Besides her, she could feel Lynex's stiff muscles. Warrior continued to lean heavily upon him, eyes closed, breathing deeply. Althea couldn't even tell if he was aware of their situation.

Just beyond the closed circle of bristling guards, Sheppard and his team stood on the white-lighted steps. Sheppard barked something at them, causing them to loosen only slightly. Althea narrowed her eyes. Did this mean Sheppard was their commanding officer? Did this mean he would spare them? After all . . . they did help them get out. If it weren't for Althea and her companions, Sheppard would have been stuck back with the Genii. A life for a life, right?

Sheppard turned when a new person appeared from the top of the stairs. Short brown hair, graceful neckline, a pendant of some kind around her neck. . . . Althea glanced quickly at Lynex and then back at her. Whoever this person was, was she a Leader? All seemed to respect her. The Queen, perhaps. And she did seem to be like a Queen despite her lacking the aura of dangerousness a normal she-Wraith would possess. In fact, nothing really marked her out for a leader. She didn't look military, nor cruel, nor feared. And yet, she seemed balanced, cool and tranquil: utterly in control. Also, all the others looked up to her, and Sheppard submitted to her.

Would they be met with mercy? Althea looked up at the Queen humbly. Or would she order them to death? She didn't looklike a person to condemn them for mere hunters . . . but then again, this was a human. Althea swallowed in dismay. With the chance to kill a couple of Wraith? Any human would probably leap for it, she thought to herself in despair.

_ "Come we in peace, from the grip of death, to life in this land,"_ Lynex murmured just audibly under his breath. Althea recognized it: it was an ancient saying said when rival Wraith crossed on a rival territory.

Another tense minute. Althea could feel the dull _whack-whack_ of her heart in her ears. The Queen exchanged tense words with Sheppard, lips thin. The cocking of an eyebrow. Sheppard seemed to be arguing with her. More words between them. The Queen nodded slowly after a certain point, glancing at Althea. Althea felt her stern gaze and quickly darted her eyes to the floor, showing respect, hoping she wouldn't take offense that she had been caught staring.

When she looked up again, the Queen was walking back upstairs with Rodney, clearly in deep conservation. Teyla, Sheppard and Ronon stayed behind, the ranks parting to let them in front. Lynex eyed them distrustfully, a warning growl in his throat. The Genii threat had put them on 'common ground'. But not anymore. There was no balance. They were utterly at the Lanteans' mercy.

Sheppard rapped something at them, commanding and stern. Although she didn't understand his words, it was clearly directed to them. What did they want them to do?

"Lynex? What did he say?" Althea said, not liking that the ranks were merging around them, as if forcing them to move in a direction.

Lynex didn't answer, but continued to stare at Sheppard.

"Lynex."

_ "He wants us to be led somewhere," _he said, white hair glinting in the sun streaming down from huge windows.

"We have no choice in the matter," Althea hissed back. "We have to."

The adolescent Wraith grunted grudgingly, eyeing now Ronon. The rugged warrior pulled out his pistol and aimed it at Lynex, rumbling something. Lynex wrinkled his nose at him in disdain before Sheppard could check Ronon in a warning tone.

"Listen to him, Lynex," Althea said. "You've got Warrior weighing you down and weapons all around. It would be no use to fight back now."

Her companion eyed her a second longer, her logic warring against his obvious contempt at obeying the humans. His jaw clenched before he relaxed, giving her a barely noticeable nod. Relief made her heave a sigh. He turned and began to allow himself and Warrior to be led away. Althea started to limp behind when the woman, Teyla, stepped in front of her, shaking her head.

Althea frowned. What did this mean? Why was she separating her from her companions? Butterflies erupting in her belly along with that deep fluttering panic, Althea tried to sidestep the woman but she was blocked again. Teyla stared at her with cool, composed eyes. Again she shook her head, refusing her passage.

_ "Little Dagger?" _Lynex said, just realizing that she wasn't following. At his height he easily saw that she was being blocked. A deep, threatening rumble was emitted from his chest as he started back for her. His eyes glittered darkly in the shadow of his eyeridges. Around him the circle tightened, the humans tensing again. Ronon held out his weapon again, ready, as if eager for resistance.

"I'll be fine, Lynex," Althea called back, swallowing the quiver in her throat. Teyla was now maneuvering her away. "Don't worry about me. Just—just keep going. Please."

_ "If they harm you I'll kill every human in this place," _he snarled helplessly, allowing himself to be driven back by Ronon.

Althea wanted to smile at his protectiveness but instead kept her face impassive—like a Wraith. With one last growl, Lynex and Warrior were led out of sight, leaving Althea with a smaller group of guards including Teyla. Teyla inclined her head and said something in a smooth tone. Then she began to walk in a direction, in which Althea limped after her. What else could she do? She was incredibly sore and the blood just wouldn't stop coming out of her nose. More than once she had to snort a crimson cloud.

_ I just hope they're safe_, Althea thought.

.s.

Althea sat on a flat bed with skimpy sheets, nothing compared to the furs of a Wraith lair. Drying strands of hair that escaped from behind her ears hung by her cheeks. Her pupils were dilated. Never had her eyes darted so fast; nothing was lost to her. A ghost couldn't have snuck up on her then. Inwardly, she was high-strung and tense. The smallest movement was worthy of her attention. Outwardly she was calm and cool, if not a little wide-eyed.

And why shouldn't she be?

She was alone in the middle of an alien people, wounded and unarmed. Even worse, the separation baffled her and threw her flat-footed, and like all Wraith she hated not feeling sure. What should she expect? Why did they separate her? Now more than ever she wished for Lynex's protectiveness or Warrior's strength. _Would they perform tests on me?_ she thought apprehensively, watching Teyla out of the corner of her eye.

_Calm,_ Althea rebuked herself, forcing herself to sooth her rapid heart. _A distraction: I need a distraction._ She began to look around with her eyes, eyeing the evident lab equipment and other rows of similarly sparse beds. Strange unfamiliar designs of most likely Ancient tongue were carved into the walls. Light streamed down, filling the—what could be this place?—room. Odd machines with blinking lights buzzed in the background, faint.

A rustle of clothing. Althea snapped her eyes toward the approaching human. Behind him was another—a female. Instinctually, Althea paid her no mind: obviously it was the male who was the higher ranked. He himself was dressed in a white strange-material coat. His hair was like jet; his eyes light blue. By the way he walked with authority and confidence, he was most likely the one in charge.

It was before him Althea recoiled, a faint growl of warning in her throat when he reached out to touch her. Somewhere in the background, unimportant, the two guards fingered their weapons. The man must have heard them and said something sharply to them that made them relax back into their usual postures.

Althea gazed at him. He had such a strange way of speaking, as if his voice carried a lilt. Although she couldn't understand him, something in his voice eased her. Perhaps it was that confidence that she unconsciously submitted to. Who knew.

The man looked back at her again. He spoke again now, this time to her. He sounded non-threatening, as if he soothing her. How different it was to the deep-throatiness of a Wraith.

He continued to talk. Althea could see nothing dangerous in that. This human bore no weapon nor seemed threatening. He made no hostile movement and went on calmly talking. It was soft and soothing and with a gentleness in it that gave Althea the feeling of security that was belied by all her experiences with humans so far. Thus said, when he reached his hand out again to touch her, she merely gazed at him suspiciously but did not shy away.

An easy smile broke out over his features. He nodded encouragement and before Althea could even react he began to feel her neck with deft fingers. At first she was utterly caught off guard, but remained cooperative. Althea submitted a trace guardedly, never relaxing lest a hostile movement came into play. All her life she had been taught to submit to those higher-ranked than her, though she never lowered her guard.

Her red welts and bruises were expertly poked and prodded. He felt her rib cage, still never ceasing to speak to her. To her? Or to his assistant? Or to Teyla, who spoke once or twice whenever he looked to her. Althea never knew. She kept her eyes downcast respectively when he looked over her wounded leg, lightly feeling it as if looking for breaks or fractures.

But then again, how could Althea know what he was really looking for? It was obvious to her now that he was some sort of medical figure, probably the chief medical officer here. Were humans that intelligent to assign such tasks? Althea thought hesitantly, now carefully rising her face to look at him. His eyes flitted about, his warm hands firm and precise, as if he had done this countless of times. His face was carefully neutral, only breaking into a small smile whenever he caught her looking at him.

No animal could be this knowledgeable and civil. Now more than ever, Althea realized, she was beginning to understand that humans—maybe all humankind—were more than what Wraith considered them. Wraith viewed them as mere food, equal to an animal. After the weeks after the fateful thunderstorm, Althea saw how wrong that notion was. No animal knew mercy or had technology such as this.

These creatures—these humans—were more than food. They had to be. What were their lives like? she couldn't help think as the man washed the blood on her face with a soft material. There must have been something in it for the bleeding ceased.

Did they have family ties? Did they treasure their young? Did they hunt their food as passionately as Wraith? What did they see Wraith as? Did they just see them as raptors of death and nothing else?

Did this human know that she lived amongst the Wraith? If he did . . . would be acting the same way he did now? Would he help a wounded Wraith?

So many questions buzzed in Althea's mind it almost made her dizzy. Almost angrily, she shoved them back, forcing her mind to see the priorities first. Questions would be for later. Besides, questions never filled a hungry belly. Actions did. Althea squared her shoulders just as the man was beginning to turn away, the examination complete. She impulsively caught him by the sleeve, not particularly caring of the consequences.

Surprised, the man turned. The guards cocked their weapons. Quickly, the man with the white coat reassured them, or so Althea mused. Whatever the case, the guards relaxed their weapons slightly again. Teyla's cool composure never shifted.

When the man finally looked at her again, expectant, Althea once again cursed her language barrier. Pointing to the coat, hoping the man would understand 'white,' she touched her own hair. His eyes narrowed. _Would he understand?_ the young woman thought with hope as she repeated her gestures, now tying her hair in a more common Wraith style.

Althea could have breathed relief when a spark of understanding burned in the doctor's intelligent eyes. And yet . . . she had expected that he would understand her. Why wouldn't he? Humans were becoming extremely clever and intellectual—both for good and bad—to Althea. Now she gazed up at him, trying to convey the message that she wanted to see her companions again.

The man faltered; he looked at Teyla and exchanged a few low words with her. Teyla's beautiful mouth thinned; Althea feared she would deny her request. But then luck must have been with her for the small woman politely inclined her head to Althea.

.s.

Althea didn't know how long they walked through the long tunnels of Atlantis, but all what she knew they must be far down deep. It had been a long time now since the lights became artificial instead of coming from outside. Even before the change, however, Althea forced herself to recognize the route they were taking, lest she would have to free Lynex and Warrior without an 'escort.'

Finally, after the gradual build-up of anticipation and worry and doubt during the trek to the prisons, they reached their destinations. Senses high alert and flanked by two armed guards, Althea was maneuvered into a dark room. Teyla followed behind, close. The only light was coming from the sole cage. It was the only thing in the entire room, the centre of it cast into green light. In it was Lynex, rigid and silent in the middle of it. His eyes were closed and jaw clenched.

Dismissing the guards, Althea rushed over to the cage.

"Lynex!"

The green eyes snapped open at the first sound of his name, the white hair framed around his face tinted green as well. His eyes took on a strange expression as he stately went to where Althea stood on the other side of the barrier. Something beyond description rose up into his eyes.

_ "Little Dagger," _he said. _"Have you been harmed?"_

Althea shook her head in a negative gesture and told him of the doctor. Lynex snorted when she finished.

_ "But you are sure you have not been threatened? Humans are masterful in the art of treachery," _he growled, bringing one hand up.

She frowned slightly, thinking of the gentleness of the human doctor.

"I wouldn't hav—"

With a short thrust Lynex struck the space between the bars, causing the hidden shield to bloom and snap. Althea only jerked slightly in reaction, becoming deeply disturbed when Lynex brought his hand close to his face, as if it was an object of intense interest.

"Well, I didn't expect that . . ." she said as he flexed his fingers.

Lynex bared his teeth, eyes narrowing.

_ "You will receive a lot of hidden things from these humans, Little Dagger."_

"You speak as if they hadn't helped save us from the Genii," Althea said, gazing up at her companion. They were once at a height; he was now the taller.

_ "Huh!" _An explosion of sarcasm. _"And for our part of the rescue, they lock us up down in these stinking cages! Cages! Already I am sick to death of them!"_

A sinking feeling settled into the pit of her stomach.

"Lynex, where's Warrior?" It was only now she realized that the other wasn't with Lynex.

The Wraith's eyes lowered.

_ "He was taken away, to be put in another cage somewhere else. It seems to me that this 'Sheppard' has seen how we work and have ordered us separated . . ."_

"So he's alright?"

_ "Yes, for the moment,"_ he said. _"As are we all. Until we can get out of this place . . ." _Suddenly he stopped, a strained expression crossing over his face. Althea felt that sinking feeling in her gut again.

"What?" she asked, dreading the answer.

_ "If the stories of the Lantean City say that it is completely surrounded by water . . . an entire sea for one nation . . ."_

Althea glanced over at the guards and blank-faced Teyla stationed at the entranceway, as if looking for eavesdroppers.

Lynex must have caught her expression and chuckled very deeply.

_ "Relax, Little Dagger. They can't understand us. We speak in a tongue completely out of their comprehension."_

Althea mimicked a Wraith-snort.

"I will have you teach me the Common tongue, or I will put all my efforts by learning it from them."

Lynex eyed her.

Althea pitched her voice very low, saying, "I don't know how long it will take, Lynex. But in the end, I will free both you and Warrior out of your cages and then, somehow . . . we'll escape from this city. I know we will." At the end, she strove to keep her voice from wobbling, trying hard to keep it steady. She hated the feeling of dismay and hopelessness. Humans! Why build a city in the middle of an ocean?

She dropped her head, so Lynex couldn't see the shameful tears prick at her eyes. If only she could tell him how scared she was, how childish her thoughts were: that she could somehow, if she was brave enough, if she loved enough, make it all come out right. She heard a rustle and creak of leather and when she looked up again, she saw that Lynex's face was very close to her own, nearly touching the barrier.

_ "Stay strong, Little Dagger," _he murmured. _"Do not give up yet. You are my friend, and . . . and I will not let harm come to you."_ He fell silent, as if unable to frame his words. Althea, too, couldn't put what she felt into words, so they both kept silent in the each others' company.

…

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…

Constructive criticism welcomed.


	17. Calm Before the Storm

**A.N—**Many, many thanks to **Lady Valmar** for beta-ing this chapter.

**A.N#2**—Edited 6/11/10. Same reason as the others.

.

"Calm Before the Storm"

.s.

Althea sat on more comfortable bed, softer than the ones in the medical area, controlling her restlessness with a mask of careful control. Of course, she was utterly alone in the quiet room, but who knew? She knew guards were stationed outside her room.

Althea let her eyes wonder about, stopping briefly to notice the, if but slightly familiar, Ancient language about the walls, since Wraith-tongue was derived from Ancient. Actually, it was a rather large room, wide and spacious. She herself had a room back at the Hive, but it was small compared to this. After all, she basically only slept and ate there, not to mention Wraith don't prize too many possessions other than weapons. Nothing compared to these humans whom always had an odd trinket here or there, a plant in a pot, a picture . . .

There was only one thing that had truly caught the young woman's eye as she got up and slowly began to walk around for the twelfth time: the windows. Never had she seen anything like them. They both brightened the room—a very sharp contrast to a Wraith ship, not to mention they were aesthetically pleasing. Only the privileged acquired lairs with 'windows' since with the ever-present possibility of going into space, what would be the practical use?

Althea slowly fingered the stained glass surface of one of the panels, feeling the crushing weight of homesickness. This strange, hard material was nothing compared to the organic and membranous substance that made the Hive ships. But no matter how beautiful, she still would never be sated until Lynex, herself and Warrior were back in their hive. She sighed, the only sign she had given that she was becoming extremely impatient.

That human—_Sheppard_—should have been here by now. Since her arrival, he would every day, at the same time, come and 'escort' her down to see Lynex or Warrior. She wanted to see Warrior, as soon as possible, and how could she do that without an escort?

The guards? _Unlikely_, she thought bitterly as she walked away from the windows. _How can I speak to them without knowing their tongue? They would probably shoot me the second I walk out of these doors._ She shivered. If the large man called Ronon was with them, he would most definably shoot her with that pistol-thing of his. His eyes never relaxed from that blank, venomous stare whenever he looked at her. As if she was something threatening to him.

_ Humans!_ She snorted to herself, a trace uneasily.

Her mind drew back to the questions left open and unanswered in the midst of her thoughts. Would Sheppard come? Why wouldn't he? _Yes, he will,_ she thought firmly to herself. This has continued for two days now—two days that have passed since she came to Atlantis—so why would he stop now?

Sounding like a hiss of rebuke from a Wraith, the door slid open. Althea turned around, eyes darting quickly at the guards flanking the door. Sheppard walked in between them, confident and relaxed-looking. Her only indication that he was ready for anything, was the ease of his hand on his handgun by his waist.

Althea slowly walked to him, just stopping two yards away from him cautiously. No sudden movements. No hidden weapons pulled out. No hostile words. Sheppard jauntily cocked his head at her, a cheeky grin on his face, saying something in his tongue. Althea could only blankly stare at him, the now-familiar twinge returning to her stomach. She shook her head, showing him that she didn't understand.

Here Sheppard said something to one of the guards. Both guards gave curt chuckles that were quickly stifled. Althea raised one eyebrow at him, not liking what went on.

He must have caught the narrowing of her eyes because he gave a quick, apologetic grin. But it left his face as soon as he made way for her to walk by, in its place a neutrally polite look. Althea gave him one last sharp glance before walking straight-backed by him and between the guards. Althea could have rolled her eyes at such a heavily armed company, yet unable to help feeling the trickle of unease slide down her back.

.s.

She couldn't help but feel a brush of relief when she walked into the dark prison room, her eyes immediately trained on the crouched figure in the corner. How she wished to get away from these guards, from their ever watchful eyes. She had always grown up in a culture that avoided public close contact, and these humans were certainly in her personal bubble. But she buckled down and took it, forcing herself to remember the routes taken.

This time, Sheppard had brought her to see Warrior. The Wraith was kneeling in his favorite position, eyes closed and seemingly oblivious of his surroundings. His long white hair glinted green in the harshness of the cage's light.

With a split-second decision, Althea turned to face Sheppard, fumbling over clumsy Common phrases. During the two days, she had forced herself to pick up words and now was trying to say the word that meant 'open.' It must have worked since Sheppard immediately tightened his mouth and eyes. He shook his head. Althea repeated the phrase 'open,' adding a pleading tone to her voice.

Sheppard eyed her with a jaundiced look. He was quiet for so long she feared he wouldn't let her in. After a moment of silence, a throaty chuckle sounded from within the cage. Althea was filled with fierce joy to hear her father-figure's words, despite them being in the Common tongue. She half-turned, seeing that Warrior was now on his feet, his entire figure wiry and majestic, just as she remembered before the Genii drug.

Sheppard shot something back, words cheeky and seemingly playful. Warrior never once raised his voice nor took the bait, maintaining those calm, if not icy replies. After a moment of banter, the man shrugged as if it was beneath him to care. But he took his gun from his sheathe and the two guards behind him shouldered their stunners. With a start, Althea wondered if they were going to shoot Warrior, but quickly shoved those thoughts aside vehemently.

As if by an invisible command, the cage door slid open. Warrior stood still within it, a faint condescending smirk on his lips. It was as if he was taunting Sheppard by behaving. He neither moved nor threatened to move, staying where he was even though the door was wide open.

It must have been part of the agreement, Althea thought as she entered without a backward glance at Sheppard, to allow me to go in. She moved quickly, in case Sheppard changed his mind.

With a hiss, the door slid back into place. The invisible shield re-activated again, leaving Althea and Warrior in the cage. The Wraith's eyes were hooded, a deep rumbling of affection welling in his throat as Althea humbly walked before him. Warrior was too old, too firmly molded, to become adept at expressing himself in new ways. He was too self-possessed, to strongly poised in his own isolation. Too long he had cultivated reticence and aloofness. He was never in any way extravagant nor foolish in his expression of fondness. He may have waited at a distance; but he always waited, was always there. Only by the steady regard of his eyes did he express his affection to his strange, un-Wraithlike daughter.

It was with those eyes now he regarded her, both appraising and efficient, noting the healing cuts and yellowing bruises. Beneath his gaze Althea lowered her head respectfully, the proper position of deference toward a high-ranking Wraith.

"Are you feeling better, Warrior?" Althea asked after a comfortable silence, looking up at her father-figure. The dark tan of his leather glinted in the greenish-cast light. His green eyes flickered for a second, the tips of his mouth quirking slightly as he registered the question.

_ "For the most part,"_ he rumbled, voice throaty and smooth, _" . . . yes. You needn't worry for me, Little Dagger."_ His eyes flickered from Althea's face to the circling Sheppard outside then back to her. _"At least, not yet. These humans hide behind their shields and weapons—rightly so."_ He gave a low snort, his eyes taking on that half-asleep look.

Inwardly, Althea relished in her relief and happiness at the strength of Warrior's words. His voice is vigilant. That must mean his strength has returned, but was it strong enough to lead an escape? She gazed up at Warrior, drinking in his dilated cat-silted eyes and facial slits, his two elegant mustachios and greenish skin. How she had forgotten what it was to gaze upon a Wraith amongst all these humans. Even with Lynex she always got a jolt, as if remembering an old dream. An old dream of the days back at the Hive before this bloody mess. The mess she now needed to undo.

Warrior's keen eyes must have noticed the thinning of her lips and clench of her jaw for he said, _"How do you fare?"_

"Well enough," Althea said, swallowing an unexpected lump of shame in her throat. "My wounds have been treated and no hostile acts have been directed toward me as well." _Except for Ronon_, her mind whispered. But of course she wouldn't mention it. "It's just close surveillance all the time."

Warrior chuckled, a sound that would cause gooseflesh to erupt along the arms in any other human except for Althea_. "It is the similarities that you possess physically that makes it more easily able to trust you,"_ he commented in an off-hand way.

In the background, Sheppard continued to circle. Neither Althea nor Warrior paid him any thought. Rather, her concentration was focused on Warrior's casual words.

"Physically, nothing more," Althea said, a trace defiantly. "I am no more human as you are, Warrior."

_ "And yet you are interested in learning the Common tongue,"_ he commented again, gently questioning, cocking one eye ridge higher than the other. Althea felt a small heat trickle up her cheeks.

"All for the purpose of escape, of course," she murmured quickly, as if in defense. She averted her eyes, as if the cage floor was now extremely interesting. She suddenly felt she just couldn't bear to look at Warrior straight in the face. _This is all my fault,_ she thought to herself bitterly. This wouldn't have happened if she had allowed them to be taken to Atlantis. Maybe they would have had a better chance of escaping to the Hive. At least they could have died fighting instead of being enclosed within cages. But no. She maneuvered herself and her family in a position where they could do nothing. It was all her fault.

A faint creaking of leather sounded in her ears as a sharp-taloned hand carefully cupped her chin and gently forced her to look up. Once again, Warrior was bemused by Althea's strangeness in her actions and reactions, surprised at her sudden shame.

_ "This isn't your fault, my young fighter. You did not mean for any of this to happen."_

"Yes, Warrior," Althea responded, sounding like she accepted Warrior's words but deep in her heart not really accepting them. "But—"

_ "I will not hear of it,"_ Warrior said, his very tone one that brooked no argument what so ever. _"I will not speak of whose to blame and anything akin to that. You are strong, Little Dagger, but you must learn that not everything depends solely on the actions of a sole person."_

Althea lowered her head in acknowledgment, feeling quietly chided. _He was right_, she thought resolutely, feeling some unnamed burden lift off her chest. It _can't be my fault. It wasn't. And how could it have been, anyway? How silly I am!_ she thought to herself, inwardly laughing at her empty worries. Warrior snorted again.

_ "You never cease to amaze me, my little hunter,"_ he rumbled more to himself than to Althea, his soft, guttural tone midway between a purr and a growl. _"How differently you think than most Wraith would. And it is with that same different way of thinking,"_ he rasped, now comfortably settling himself into his meditative kneeling position, _"that you will no doubt come up with a way for our manner of escape."_

Althea sat a respective ways from him, fondly remembering the years of care-free public affections that threw him so off balance. "But Warrior . . . I am but one; and these humans are many . . ."

_ "Find out how they get on and off this City,"_ the senior Wraith said, his eyelids slowly closing, his thick white lashes covering most of his eyes. _"And then work from there. Learn their patterns, their routines. Search for weaknesses and beware of strengths. I cannot aid you more than that, Little Dagger, for I am stuck in this prison,"_ said Warrior, his eyes flicking to the walls encompassing them. Just beyond them, Sheppard paced.

His words sparked a sudden thought. She felt almost hesitant to ask, but determinably broke through her awkwardness. Besides, Wraith prize straight-forwardness as a fortitude, and have little patience with hesitations and empty questions.

_ "Warrior, must you feed soon?"_

One corner of the Wraith's mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. He gave a guttural snort, the meaning of which Althea could not readily discern. _"I am old, little one, much older than many. Humans' life-forces' sustain me for much longer intervals than the others. But you must move quickly, Little Dagger, for this small favor will not be a lasting companion."_ A dilated cat's eye opened and fixed upon Althea's attentive face. _"Such as Lynex, for example. He is strong, but young. His latest feeding will last him no longer than a week—two, at the longest."_

"That doesn't give me much time."

At this Warrior chuckled, the timbre in a low, husky growl. His long white hair glinted and rustled as he turned his head to look at her fully.

_ "Ah . . . the curse of being one of the most powerful beings in this galaxy. Hunger is always a constant companion for us, one much more lasting than opportunity. Humans feed upon their surroundings. We must hunt them. But to hunt such clever and intelligent prey . . ."_ He gave a mirthless laugh. _"There is always the possibility that they will turn the hunt around."_

Althea stared at Warrior in amazement. She had never expected to hear this open admission of humans' intelligence from a Wraith—and from the most high-ranking Leader, at that. How could he have known? Did he study them as she secretly hoped to do, or did he just merely peg the human race as mere cattle like all others?

Once again, Warrior must have caught her look of incredulity and wonder and hissed softly. _"Oh yes, I know very well of humans' intelligence, my strange daughter. They are most . . . interesting . . . prey. Unlike my Hive-mates, I take pains to withdraw the killing blow to observe them, to study them."_ He closed his eyes, as if remembering a distant memory. _"I was not always First Leader, Little Dagger. I was once a head-strong, hot-headed young adolescent spoiling for a fight, just roiling to prove himself."_

Althea wasn't sure if Warrior was talking to her or to himself, so it made her even more conscious that she must remain very still and do nothing to disturb Warrior. She never spoke, almost afraid of interrupting and halting this sudden flow of talk from Warrior. Warrior? Her Warrior—hot-headed and wild? Her calm, aloof and stoic provider? If there was one thing she learned of the Wraith, it was that they were extremely secretive and prize secrecy above all else. Nothing 'personal' was ever talked about, unless it was between extremely close companions.

_ "I, too,"_ Warrior continued, as if remembering a fond old memory, _"like most others, thought humans as nothing more than a means of sustenance, only here to serve their purpose of nourishment. Taken for granted, scorned, ignored, humans were those mysterious creatures that we all heard about but never really understood. If once in a great while one would even mention of humans' cleverness no thought was ever put into it. The Lanteans didn't count,"_ Warrior growled, flicking his hand in a 'nothing' gesture, _"they were not the same thing. They were the Enemy, and not even the most curious would even dare hint at their cunning lest their companions turned upon them in wrath._

_ "I . . . I was slow to mature," _he said slowly, drawing each word painfully slow, so slow that Althea was afraid for a moment that he would break off and fall into silence. _"Even the eldest amongst the adolescents, I still hadn't developed the jump from solid food to life-forces. Every year, the Leader then would keep withdrawing me from the rites of initiation—the First Hunt—until I grew so rash that I decided to hunt on my own."_

Warrior shook his head slowly, as if warmly mortified by his behavior. _"It was then I realized that humans were given a bad name and buried under the ignorance of our people. I . . . I chose to hunt this particular female—despite the preferences toward males—and learned that there was more to them then met the eye. I learned many harsh lessons that year,"_ he murmured quietly, _"and some of the best. Even now I do not forget her, even though her own life passes out of this galaxy. That is why I am so interested in knowing my prey, in honoring them for the lives we take, for understanding the risks of hunting such clever and intelligent quarry."_

At last the Wraith fell silent, his smooth and deep voice now replaced with silence. He stared forward, eyes half-lidded, both arms encircling his raised knee. In the unimportant background, Sheppard still circled around, curious and a tad annoyed. Althea didn't know what to say, feeling humbled and fiercely privileged by Warrior's account. This was the most she had ever heard Warrior utter in a particular lapse of time. Ever. Probably the most she had ever heard from any Wraith—even from Lynex. Then again, Wraith were not a talkative folk, mostly favoring telekinetic mindspeech.

After a long pause, Althea murmured, "You can count on me, Warrior. I will free all three of us. I will not let you down." Even though there was no need to say it, she felt she should, as if she needed to say 'thank you' for his admission.

_ "I have no fear that you won't,"_ he growled, eyes still closed.

"Then humor me, my Leader: how many guards do you have and when do they switch places? At what intervals would be best to free you?" she breathed, pitching her voice low, knowing Sheppard's keen ears were listening to the guttural Wraith tongue in frustration.

_ "Come again in a few days," _Warrior hissed curtly, _"and I will have your answer."_

Althea heard the Wraith's unspoken desire to be left in peace, and quietly got up from her respectful crouch. The Wraith's sudden wish for peace did not bother her at all; she was, in fact, rather used to it. After all, in the Hive she only saw him briefly between intervals of sparring with Lynex. But her deep love for him never left, and she knew his affections for her would never be forgotten, no matter how curt he became with her.

And as she swiftly left the prison to be flanked by two rather amazed guards and a disgruntled Sheppard, she felt her resolution harden: she would do everything in her power to plan an escape. Everything . . . and anything.

…

…

…

Constructive criticism welcomed.


	18. Defiant Till the Last

**A.N—**Before you read, once again I thank whole-heartedly **Lady Valmar** for beta-ing this chapter.

**A.N#2**—Edited 6/11/10.

.

"Defiant Till the Last"

.s.

Althea resisted the urge to growl, fumbling over the phrase she was practicing on for the umpteenth time. It was a challenging one, unlike the others she had learned. Sitting in front of her, the head medic—Beckett, she learned—nodded in an encouraging manner, making his optimistic sounds. His lilting voice soothed her hackles slightly. Then again, never once did he flag in his support, never once seem out of patience.

_ How could he do it?_ she thought in grudging admiration, as she tested the unfamiliar sounds with her tongue again. Having been raised by Wraith, she had none of a human's embarrassment about acting contrite when ignorance was the cause. And yet, she had not been taught with a race who didn't exactly prize patience. Wraith could be very impatient with anyone other than the straightforward type, so she was rather surprised at Beckett's steadfastness. It was only Warrior and sometimes Lynex who showed patience.

As the days were passing, it seemed that it was the doctor who was in charge of teaching her of the humans' oddly familiar, flowing tongue. At first, though, Sheppard had brought a woman—a Dr. Heightmeyer, she learned—to see her. This woman Althea almost immediately ignored; she was much too soft-spoken and pliable. Even her appearance seemed weak. Nothing the woman could do could coax a reaction from her, so Teyla brought her back to the medic—Beckett. The clever woman seemed to realize that Althea respected the more self-assured and dominant people.

And since then, Althea spent much time with the doctor when he wasn't either on duty or busy with some other thing. Ever since the first meeting she was more inclined to his kindness and patience. There was also Sheppard, she felt merited to submit to him in a hunter-to-hunter relationship, though as the days passed, she saw him less and less and more and more of Ronon. Whenever she went anywhere, he always followed her a little ways away . . . but always watching. Like a shadow.

Rodney? Ha—if she saw him he would suddenly get flustered and either quickly walk by or away. Then again, she hardly saw him anymore anyway.

The Queen? Though the Queen never actually spoke to her face-to-face, Althea knew she spoke about her. Especially whenever she came and spoke quietly to Beckett. Every single time Althea would avert her eyes and appear meek—the respectable behavior to the highest-ranking member. Other times she would catch sight of the Queen speaking to Sheppard or seeing the both of them watching her from afar.

Is Warrior right? She couldn't help but think uneasily about what he had said about how they trusted her easier because she looked like a human. Will _they let their guard down long enough so I can mount an escape? I will have only one chance at this._

Thus said, as the days went by Althea bent her will and strove to master as much of the Common tongue as she could. It was through pantomime, speaking and listening with Beckett did she better develop the rudimentary phrases. Also, since she had honed her senses heightened to the peak of her ability, she began to pick up other phrases on her own: "no"; "yes" or "I agree"; "stop"; "enough"; "stay" or "stand still." There were many others that she made clumsy attempts at speech—but failure only sharpened her resolve to persevere. Chafing, Althea practiced and bided her time.

And time was passing. Three days became four; four became five; five became six. Little by little Althea explored the Atlantian City, now allowed to eat her meals with the other humans—though guarded by two soldiers and a foreboding Ronon. She knew the way to both Wraith by heart. She became familiar with the paths and routines of the general population, keeping a subtle eye on the number of guards and the time of their rotations.

More days passed. Seven became eight. Eight became nine. She discovered that the least amount of activity was at night. For her, all those years of associating with the Wraith and the fact that Althea had done much of her own hunting by daylight had not changed the fact that for her, night was no less a usual time to be abroad and active. The need for action, not the height of the sun, was what made her choices.

But she let none of her desires, lest the still-suspicious Ronon voice any complaints. She continued to act quiet and unobtrusive, never once showing anything that might give away her plans. Even her visits with either Warrior or Lynex betrayed nothing—they made sure of that, though no matter how much Sheppard paced, he could never decipher what they were saying.

Nine became ten.

Ten became eleven.

.s.

And as Althea was currently growling over an unfamiliar phrase, something large was going on—something along of a festivity. It seemed a large party of people had entered the Ring a day or so ago, and now Beckett was trying to explain to her what it was all about. She was now stumbling over the phrases he was trying to teach her, her tone guttural compared to the lightness of the doctor's dancing voice.

After the God-knows-which attempt, Beckett shook his jet black head and tried a different route.

"Happy. Food. People . . . gathering," he said, pantomiming 'gathering' by sweeping a lot of air in a two-handed gesture.

Althea narrowed an eye thoughtfully. She rocked back lightly in her chair. The light streamed down from the glass windows. Domesticated plants rested in the corners of her room. Before her, Beckett continued to look at her with his blue eyes. Food . . . happy . . . many people. . . . Ah, a celebration of some sort, thanking their bounty? How odd! Wraith didn't 'celebrate' a harvest or anything with any others. That would result in a skirmish, at the least. Many humans, coming together in peace to enjoy the food they reaped?

Such peace and amenity never existed amongst Wraith. That was one trait that never found any expression in their culture. Wraith had a saying: "_Sleep when not hungry, for hunger always returns_."

The Wraith had no terms for "thank-you" either. They understood gratitude, but that carried a different connotation, generally a sense of obligation, usually from a person of lesser status. They helped each other because it was their way of life, their duty, necessary for survival, and no thanks were expected or received. Besides, there was little that they could do to separate their clan from other rivals. Otherwise there would be no 'clan' concept. Just full-blown out wars. Wraith are very protective of what they think of as belonging to them.

"Happy, food, people, gathering," Althea repeated, giving a little smile at how fluent she sounded. "Un . . . understand."

Once again, the human's face broke into an easy smile. Next, he said, "Teyla. People."

What did the woman Teyla have anything to do with all those visitors? Teyla, Teyla . . . people, Teyla. . . . Althea gave a raspy thrum of satisfaction. So, Teyla's people were the people who came through the Ring. The thrum faltered, and her the shadow of a grin disappeared. Her people . . . she was with her people. Homesickness that felt like a physical blow suddenly crashed down on her. The room suddenly felt uncomfortably warm. The light streaming down was too bright. The plants were too peaceful. The young woman felt skittish and resentful without real cause.

Beckett must have suddenly noticed her sudden change of mood and sat back slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Althea gnawed on her lower lip, giving a small sigh, trying to elude to the fact that she was irritated. Then, for a strange reason she was filled without a single desire other than to see Lynex.

"See Wraith?" she asked, her eyes widening as she edged forward in the chair.

A sudden heaviness seem to be cast over Beckett's features as he leaned back in the chair, scrubbing a hand over his face as he registered what she was asking him. He heaved a sigh, as if reluctant. _He thinks I would give up my kin_, Althea thought as she noticed the lack of enthusiasm showing on his face. _He thinks my sudden interest in their tongue would be enough to tame me._

And yet, as she thought about it, she was a little reluctant herself to disappoint such a steadfast teacher. But she was Wraith—and these humans would have to provide others means with which to capture her.

.s.

Althea frowned, worry lines furrowing in her brow. She left the two guards at the entrance, now beginning to slowly walk around the cage. Inside, Lynex was pacing unceasingly. It was as if he didn't even notice her. Even when she came to a stop, he still didn't look up. Just paced. And paced.

And paced.

"Lynex," Althea said quietly, not wanting to spook him.

Pace.

"Lynex!"

Now the lanky Wraith spun on the sole of his foot, eyes wide. His dirty hair whipped from shoulder to the other. His hands were clenched, the knuckles white. Althea felt that oppressing helplessness as she noticed that they were feverish and glazed with hunger. The shadows beneath his eyeridges seemed larger now, giving his face the appearance that he didn't have any eyes, just gaping sockets. Even his skin was not the healthy green tint, but a sickly gray.

_ "Little Dagger,"_ he rasped, not moving where he was, eyes still wide. His pupils were dilated to the fullest. Althea felt a little uneasy at the hunger in his voice. Never had he sounded so . . . _hungry_. She shifted her weight from foot to foot.

"Lynex, I just came—"

"_I'm so hungry, Little Dagger, so hungry. I can feel it clawing my insides, wrenching me apart. I need food,"_ he moaned, suddenly scratching his feeding slits as if they pained him_. "So hungry. I can't take it any longer, Little Dagger—so hungry." _Althea felt her jaw clench as she heard in the last words the twinge of desire in his voice.

She was rather glad for the hidden shield that separated them. The predator gleam in his heavily shadowed eyes shocked her. More than ever, despite her deep resent for it, the differences between them showed. His hair was now entirely white—not a strand of the childhood black—unlike her sandy, tawny hair. Their skin colour. Their eyes. But never more had she felt so drawn to him, felt so right with him. Despite her physical differences, she was more Wraith than any human. She would rather be with the Wraith than the humans. Nothing could change that. It was where her heart and soul lay.

But at times at feeding, or whenever Wraith hungered, that was the sole time she felt the difference the most. And true, she could see his control slip lower and lower, but this . . .

Warrior was right. He would not be able to last even two weeks. Even eleven days was pushing the envelop. Althea involuntarily squared her shoulders—a habit of hers whenever she came upon an important decision.

"Lynex, listen to me. I've decided: I'm breaking both of you out tonight, when there is the least activity. There is a ritual of some kind, and the Ring will be open just when night falls to let off the last group of humans. We will run through it then. Do you understand? Lynex?"

With a strangled growl, Lynex had begun to pace, shoulders hunched and hands into fists. It was as if he couldn't concentrate on anything or anyone for more than a minute. Althea muttered a strong Wraith oath under her tongue. She needed to be sure Lynex understood her—or else it would be like jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

"Lynex!"

_ "What!"_ he snarled, recoiling at the same time, as if his own volume startled him. His pacing faltered for a minute. His breathing was becoming choppy, as if he went for a long run. Somewhere in the background, Ronon watched impassively, muscular arms folded over his chest.

_ "I'm—I apologize, Little Dagger. I—I just can't seem to concentrate—"_ He rubbed his temple with a shaky hand. _"I'm just so hungry—"_ With a sudden, full-throated roar, Lynex whirled around and slammed his hand into the force field. Althea drew in her breath with a hiss.

As if he had forgotten about the shield, the starving Wraith roared his hurt and astonishment. In the background, the two guards gripped their weapons reflexively. Ronon hardly stirred, watching the captive with dark, glittering eyes. If Althea hadn't know better, she would say smug pleasure was scrawled all over his face. And his eyes? Humans may say eyes are windows to the soul—but Wraith say they are nothing more than fine jewel-like snares of illumination.

By now, Lynex was bellowing at the humans in the Common tongue, his control slipping fast, his hunger breaking the infamous Wraith self-discipline. Althea strained her ears, picking up the phrases "feed" and "enough" and "free" . . . that and a whole bunch of jumbled snarling. Her heart was torn. Never had she felt such helplessness . . . all what she could do was wait till night fell before she put her plan to action. Not before. Lynex would have to wait a few more hours.

A movement caught in her peripheral vision. It was Ronon, hulking and rugged, swaggering to the cage, sneer on his face. He was even taller than Lynex. Althea couldn't help but think as he glared down to the Wraith, only the thin shield separating them. Lynex repeatedly slammed his hand—palm first—into the shield where Ronon's chest would be, as if trying to feed. Ronon never moved nor flinched, but just watched with unmasked satisfaction as the starving Wraith's blows eventually grew weaker and weaker, either his energy spent or his arm becoming numb.

A spark of fury ignited in her breast as she watched the large man's pleasure.

A mixture of aggression and apprehension flashed on Althea's face as she marched over and wedged herself right between the shield and Ronon. She was small compared to him, coming barely to his chest. But she continued to glare at him, the aggression flashing out at him. Her lips drew back from her teeth in a snarl of protective righteous wrath.

"Enough." Her voice was a guttural growl, her accent thick. "No."

Ronon glared down at her, open contempt on his face. Althea never backed down, openly staring directly at him, never faltering her gaze. There were so many other things she wanted to tell him, but she would have to stick with 'no'. Thus said, her furious glare said enough. No other words were needed.

The tension almost grew unbearable. Lynex's ragged breathing could be heard behind her, but she didn't dare break her stare. If she was going to start this, she would have to end this, ere this human would think her weak. After another minute, it was Ronon who gave a low grunt and stepped away, back into his original spot. He crossed his arms, as if the whole thing meant nothing to him. The two guards besides him eyed him as if he was nuts.

If only Ronon could tell Althea that he had been used as 'training' for young Wraith, to test their hunting-and-stalking skills. If only he could tell her they ruined his life for seven years. If only he could tell her they tortured him with their technology, making him a 'runner.' If only he could tell her they destroyed and scattered his people and home.

If only Althea could comprehend him.

But she couldn't, so she just turned her back on him, deliberately insolent. Of course, he wasn't a Wraith so he couldn't understand that both back-turning and stares were utterly insulting. Thus said, he allowed her to crouch down to Lynex's level, safe on the other side of the cage.

The Wraith had sunk to his knees, his entire figure trembling. His hair acted like a curtain over his face. The hand that had hit the force shield hung limply at his side, the other clenched so tightly that the sharp nails pierced the skin. Runnels of blood ran thickly.

"Lynex?" A soft murmur. "Lynex? Can you hear me?"

_ "It's killing me,"_ Lynex rasped from behind his hair, as if the very act of talking pained him. _"I can't think, can't move, too weak—stupid humans . . ."_

"I'm not asking you to do anything other than hang in there for a few more hours," Althea whispered, her voice like a light touch. Never had she wanted to comfort him more, wanted to help him bear his burden more. But even being his companion and hunting partner would not save her if she entered the prison—he would no doubt feed upon her. He had passed into the point where any physical human was fair game. And that knowledge rankled her.

Very slowly, Lynex tilted his head up. The hair parted out of his face as he looked at the earnest, concerned face of his closest companion. They were hardly half a foot away. The green light blanketed them both. His glazed, feverish eyes and pallid parlor spoke for themselves, but it was something in his look that made Althea start. What was it . . . ? And why was her heart beating faster and a flush of heat creeping up in her cheeks and between her legs?

_ "Very well,"_ he groaned, voice no louder than a garble. _"A few more hours, Little Dagger. Just . . . stay here . . . with me a little . . . longer."_

He closed his eyes, still trembling as if cold. Althea could not find any argument, so she continued to kneel in front of the starving Wraith until Ronon 'told' her it was time to leave.

.s.

Althea forced herself to eat the food given to her, scarcely tasting it. All around her, the other humans in the mess hall seemed charged with anticipation and excitement. There were some Lanteans and Teyla's people, each mingling, each animated in the prospect of the festival of bounty.

All what Althea felt was tension, her gut twisted in apprehension. The acid frothed in her stomach, like milk did in a cup of coffee. Outwardly, her face was a perfect slate, devoid of anything other than a quiet blank. The food was like dust in her mouth. She didn't want to eat; she wanted the night to fall, the moment she had been awaiting for all afternoon and dreading all day. Over and over she had gone through her plan in her head, visualizing each part methodically. Everything had to go perfectly. She didn't know if Ronon reported anything to Sheppard. She fervently hoped not. Right now, she wanted the least amount of attention directed to her.

She continued to eat her meal—a strange meat that had little flavoring—silently, eyes glassy and distant. Her tawny, sandy hair was tied back in a horsetail, flowing down over her shoulders in thin sheaves. Despite Beckett's objections, she had kept her hunting garb on. It now shone softly in the dimming light, her exposed skin tanned and rippling with muscle. How alien she must have looked, sitting there, quiet, flanked by two guards and a watchful Ronon. None could have guessed what was running through her mind.

Thank the gods for small favors.

Beckett sat in front of her, blue eyes beaming and a small, cheerful grin on his face. Althea's eyes flickered with recognition as she snapped out of her reverie. She felt her heart thump and plastered a polite smile. _Please not about my confrontation with Ronon_, she mentally begged.

Luck seemed to have favor her that night. "Food good?" he asked, his voice gentle and friendly.

Another, politer smile. "Yes, good." Her voice sounded even enough. Within her ribs, her heart bucked and churned.

He gave a small smile in return, eyes tilting to her half-eaten meal. The sounds of laughter and speech from the background buzzed faintly in the background. His eyebrows raised in a slight questioning gesture. Althea felt the skin on her palms draw almost painfully, tingling. None must guess at her intentions of escape. The lights outside was beginning to dim—near dusk, she reasoned. The artificial lights of the City were picking up, casting the immediate area in a warm glow. The warm air from outside prickled at her nose, the smell of the sea strong. She fidgeted, once again restless. Her nerves kept screaming, begging for something to attack, something to do.

She motioned to one of the darkening windows, not knowing the word for 'outside'. It would be, in fact, the first time she would actually be outside. Anywhere but in here.

Beckett frowned briefly before realization lit his face. Pausing for only a moment, he looked at the two guards and said something swiftly, too swiftly for Althea to understand all. One of the guards answered back, but his tone told Althea that he wouldn't present an obstacle. _Good,_ thought Althea, eyeing the way out impatiently, chafing to be gone.

The now-cold meal before her forgotten, as she was led outdoors. She kept her head down as she passed the still, watchful figure of the rugged warrior. Briefly, she felt anger rise to her face. _He was just like Morgar, damn his rotting eyes. He hated me without a real reason. I will be so glad to leave this place. I had enough of humans._ How she missed the dark, cobwebby halls of the Hive. The smell of pine resin, not the sea. The carefree hours of sparring with Lynex in the morning and the brusque, awkward affection from Warrior. No more cages. No more guards.

Althea walked quickly behind Beckett, keeping up with his swift stride. His white coat billowed as he walked. Her callused, shoeless feet made little sounds as she followed. They didn't pass many people; most were either on another world to join the festivities or somewhere else. In any case, they encountered no trouble as Beckett deftly led her to one of the balconies.

The sea breeze picked up, warm and salty in her nostrils, as she stepped out onto the balcony. Her skin drew taunt, then relaxed. It was comfortably warm, the night breeze playing with her hair. The waves were frothed with foam, the surging gray waters below shaded into ultramarine blue to the horizon. The dusky heaven was thick with distant suns. The sun hung low over the western horizon, its light a tepid, golden amber, not yet deepening to crimson. Besides her, Beckett looked out, seemingly lost in thought.

Althea felt her breath driven away as thoroughly as if a Wraith had punched her stomach. A sea for an entire nation, a planet of water. The very vastness of it all made her feel insignificant and small.

The sea . . . salt water. The same purge that poisoned Warrior. This City was sitting on an entire planet of the deadly liquid. _Do they know? _she thought, sobered by that secret thought. No, they wouldn't. And they would never, because she would never tell. The Lanteans had the weapon against the Wraith, but they didn't know it. Ignorance? Or just purely unaware?

Althea shrugged, gooseflesh erupting along her arms despite the balmy warmth.

.s.

It was night at last. Althea crouched by her door, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow. Her fierce sea-gray eyes were as hard as flint. Her taunt muscles rippled as she gripped the eating utensil she had snatched from the meal a few hours ago. Clumsy and blunt compared to her two beautiful blades, but they would do. She did not want to kill people. That had not changed. What had changed was that she'd if she had too. If they stood in her way.

This was it. The agony of waiting and the age-old fears of the conspirator had tortured her all evening, but now she would strike. Bubbles blossomed within her belly, alongside the clamoring thrill of escape. Her iron will brushed much of her fear aside, leaving her a bottle of pent up energy. Although Althea clearly valued the warning fear gave; she resented it as well.

Her breaths came out in the lightest of pants, her pupils dilated to the max. Like a hunting Wraith, she crouched, mentally preparing for what would come. It only lasted for a second before she boldly swiped her hand before the door-opening device. A burbling hiss sounded as it accepted. The door slid open.

As she predicted, there were two guards. Both blinked furiously, murmuring surprise. Surprise made them slow. Still quick, but slow enough to allow time for Althea. She flung in between them, not giving them any time to react first. She fluidly whacked both weapons out of their hands, the flat, wiry muscles cording in her arms. Her hands were bent like claws as she shoved one of them down.

With a muted snarl, Althea closelined the middle of the nearest guard, catching him. He bent around the waist, gasping for air. She jerked her arms free and brought her elbows down forcefully across his upper back. With a yell of pain and surprise, he went down.

The other guard recovered from Althea's sudden appearance and came around, catching her with a solid fist in the gut. She came up from this, head-butting the other man in the hollow between his ribs. They grappled with each other; their breathing harsh under the extreme exertions.

Wraith fought like wolves: they circle and meet for a few brutal seconds, doing as much damage as they can in that short time. Then they break off and circle, searching for another opening. Then meet again. Had Althea had enough room and enough time, she would have fought like that. Because she didn't, she adapted and began to fight in a close-contact fashion.

The guard caught the wolfish flash of Althea's teeth in the yellow light. It wasn't a friendly expression. Althea's eyes flashed, her body moving forward desperation in her movements.

Her entire soul was determined to win. She slashed and darted about, now intent on breaking his grasp on her. He relinquished his hold to punch her, but she caught the movement and plunged the knife deep within his forearm. The human gave a strangled cry, a grimace on his face as he backed away, holding the injured limb. Althea turned around to be caught alongside the head by the other human's clout.

Corkscrews of light cascaded in her vision but Althea used her momentum to kick upward on the ground, hitting the attacking human in the groin. The human straggled a muffled cry and fell to ground, where Althea proceeded to bluntly kick him in the face till he fell limp, on his side.

Without missing a beat, Althea whirled around and solidly clouted the stabbed guard alongside the head with a roundhouse kick. The man fell, soundless, to the floor. Speckles of blood splattered.

Althea stood over the two fallen opponents, her chest heaving as her lungs expanded to their fullest. She felt so enraged that it almost hurt to stop fighting. She remembered that the time was ticking away. It was almost like physically feeling the passage of time slipping through her fingers. She waited for a breathless minute, cocking her ear to any footfalls or muted orders. Nothing. None had heard. With a hiss, Althea began to run silently down the hall toward where she would know her Wraiths were kept.

.s.

Althea was a ghost, as she sprinted down the quiet halls, eyes burning angrily at the closed doors. The strange structures with coloured water and bubbles whizzed passed. Hot breath plunged up and down her throat. She felt terribly exhilarated and terrified. If and when the Lanteans—Ronon, most like—would find the two guards, the place would be teeming with armed guards. Now that she thought about it, she would have dragged the two of them in her room, to hide them.

_ No time for that!_ she berated herself, her hair whipping over her shoulders as she stopped abruptly. She was here; she was just before Lynex's prison. Althea bared her teeth at no one. The expression was not a smile, but closer to a snarl. If she was a ghost, she was now the shadow of such a ghost as she crept into the dark room. Without a sound, as quiet as smoke, she ruthlessly cocked her arm back and delivered a powerful punch. It struck the nerve beneath the jaw, stunning the hapless guard even before he knew Althea was right besides him.

Whirling, she dealt with the other before he could stun her with the Wraith gun. She leapt at him, using his shoulders to hoist her lower body up. With a fearsome thrust, she propelled her feet into his gut. The man was a solid, sturdy guard; but even he gasped for air as all the wind was driven from him. Althea stumbled back, eyes wide and breathing hard.

Lynex.

Ignoring the still conscious human, she ran over to the door. Without pausing, she slammed her hand in the control pad, just as Sheppard did many, many times. With a groaning hiss, the door slid open. Althea scooted back, away from the gaping entranceway.

And not a minute too soon.

The starving Wraith plunged past in a dark blur, a waft of husky air, and a snatch of white hair and wide eyes. Lynex practically flew out of the cage and went straight for the still awake guard. Althea barely had time to brace herself as an incoherent muffled scream was ripped from the man's mouth as Lynex savagely ripped the clothes apart and fed. This was no long, savoring meal. Hardly had the deadly slit on his palm touch the man, the man had become old and worn. It was a dried up corpse in no time, and Lynex barely paused before latching onto the other guard. This, too, was fed upon quickly.

Althea watched in the shadows, quiet and brooding. Her relief that Lynex would live was marred by the treacherous thoughts of her fending him off, to keep herself alive from his hunger. What if two humans weren't enough to quench his appetite? What if he couldn't recognize her in his crave? Though compared to humans, she was swift and deadly—much more coordinated than most, she would have met her match with a hungry, determined Wraith. If she had her blades, the odds would have favored her a little more.

All what she had was a simple eating utensil and her wits.

But as Lynex staggered back, Althea knew her traitorous thoughts were all in vain. His shoulders were now squared and his tall, lanky figure was straight. Gone was the slumped, weakened figure a few minutes ago. The shoulders heaved in a deep breath as the adolescent Wraith stood. Althea watched him, strange emotions stirring within her breast and heating her face. She would have watched him longer, allowing him time to get used to the feeling of contentment, but there was no time.

"Lynex?" Althea said.

At the soft, questioning tone, the Wraith turned. Althea felt a shy smile grow on her face, one awoken from relief and something else. His eyes were bright and focused, his skin the same healthy greenish blue colour as before. His hair would need washing; she couldn't help but notice.

_ "Little Dagger,"_ he said. His eyes steadily regarded her as she walked to him. Suddenly, he seemed awkward from self-consciousness. _"Forgive me for my apparent uncontrolled behavior." _

"I'd be the same if I was without food for days, but right now, we need to get Warrior. I don't know how long our luck is going to hold out."

_ "Good. I never want to see this place again," _Lynex said, voice thick with bitterness. His tone warmed, gentled. _"I . . . I am grateful to you, Little Dagger." _He paused, groping. He wanted to express a feeling that was akin to gratitude, but not the way gratitude was normally felt. It that carried a sense of obligation. Damn his confounded tongue and too-carefully schooled eyes. _"If it weren't for you, I surely would have perished."_

Althea didn't know how to respond, to him or the fluttering of her heart in her ribs. But she didn't need to as Lynex strode through the entranceway, expecting her to show him the way.

.s.

It took little time to reach Warrior's prison. All the while, Althea led while Lynex followed. Althea eyed him aslant as they ran down the silent halls, the only sounds coming from the bubbling statues, feeling joy at being at his side. To any other human, the Wraith's quiet, penetrating concentration and narrowly silted eyes would have put them on edge. But to Althea, it made the City's walls grow warmer and less frightening with his comforting presence. Even his husky, cobwebby masculine scent eased her tension. The creak of the leather and dragging sounds of his leather trench coat whenever he crouched beside her soothed her.

The two life-long companions crouched, just beyond the door. The artificial lights shone down, laminating off of Lynex's dirty hair. Althea's own tawny, sandy hair glinted an orangey-yellow. Without speaking, the two of them attacked the unsuspecting guards. Althea drove her little knife deep within the man's arm as he reflexively struck her along the chest. The man winced with shock and pain as the knife drove into the man's subclavian vein. Althea rapped him, twice, hard, on the temple without skipping a beat. He fell, unconscious, blood flowing down his arm in a crimson spurt.

Althea efficiently tied a tourniquet to stop the worse part of the flow, not really wanting the human to die. He was only doing his duty. When she got up, Lynex was standing a little off, respectful and humble before Warrior. Warrior had gotten up, watching both of them dispatch the guards with an appraising eye from behind the bars. His eyes lit up with approval and fondness as Althea opened the door with bloodstained fingers.

With a quick growl that was something like a purr, Warrior grasped her shoulder with curt affection—a Leader's praise to an exceptional student—after he fed on the guard Lynex subdued.

_ "Lead us to the Ring. Our window of opportunity will close shortly,"_ he said firmly, the authoritative hardness that made him Leader in his voice. Althea was only too happy to comply, feeling just a little out of place leading such a high-ranked Wraith, not the other way around.

.s.

The dome of the sky was flecked with the cold-fire of the stars, the thousand thousands of them. The round moon, round as the well of a weasel's eye, burned silver as it climbed. It lit the three figures as they ran along a long stretch of balcony.

Althea paused, ears alert and senses honed. She felt Lynex's eyes on her as the moon's light picked up the trails of moisture running down her neck, despite the relative coolness of the night. Althea turned to face Lynex, narrowing her eyes at him, as if scolding him, until he returned his focus to the situation. She could have snorted with amusement and exasperation.

They were so close, she could almost hear the gurgling of the open Ring. Hope blossomed in her chest. A restlessness overtook her. She could hear the muted sounds of voices—Teyla's people, she assumed—making their way into the Ring. Their ticket out of here. Althea wanted to laugh. They would make it! Just before she could ask Warrior on what to do, the senior Wraith drew in a small breath.

_ "We have been found."_

Althea's stomach plummeted and her heart leapt into her throat.

Althea would have sworn had the sight before not silenced her. A full party of humans—solider class—were rushing to block the balcony. She couldn't count how many. All she knew they were coming for them, blocking them passage, to bring them back to the accursed cages. The very thought of it chilled her blood. Her vision reddened when she saw Ronon swagger amongst them, next to him Sheppard.

_ "They have their ways,"_ Warrior murmured in her ear_. "Sensors pinpointing your exact location."_ His voice darkened. _"Follow me now, the both of you!"_ he barked, teeth bared.

Althea's eyes continued to widen, her breath caught in her throat. Balmy heat suffocated her. She couldn't breathe. _Caught!_ Her mind yammered. She felt her eyes sting, her ribs locked tight at the unfairness of it all. How could they have known!

She could hardly react as Warrior got up from his crouch. Both she and Lynex watched him as if he had lost his mind. Without a sound, Warrior darted forward with a scrawny, catlike agility, eyes as hard as chips of flint. A stunner shot exploded from a weapon from somewhere within the party, but it missed him by mere centimeters. He rushed in the midst of them, never voicing an outcry. He whirled and fought, his wiry and lean body flexing back and forth as he struck heads and chests in his attempt to make it to the Ring.

Milling confusion ensued. Sheppard was barking orders, no doubt telling those around the furious Warrior to back away so he could have a clear shot. But Warrior was wise and cunning; he used the confusion to his advantage by remaining in the middle of the humans, using their combined bodies as a shield, all the while dealing damage amongst them.

Lynex got over his apparent shock and, with a snarl, jumped in the mêlée, his own blows hammering the humans. Shoulder to shoulder Lynex and Warrior fought, each protecting each others' back. The humans fought back, but close quarters and the small space of the balcony made it impossible to use their weapons. They were less than willing to shoot lest they struck their comrades.

Althea hung back, eyes darting. The salt rode in the air, prickling at her nose. It was much too crowded for her to do any good. But she couldn't just let her two companions just fight alone, and she needed to break free with them. She was torn with indecision until a figure caught her eye. Sheppard. It seemed that he, too, was unable to get into the fray. The close quarters did not permit it. He could only seethe on the end, waiting for backup.

_ Reinforcements_! thought Althea in dismay. _I need to cut him off! Or, we can use him as a bargaining chip! His life for ours!_

Althea rushed at Sheppard with renewed vigor. Suddenly the man seemed more precious than the rarest stone: their way out. If she could hold him hostage, then these Lanteans would have no choice but let them pass.

Sheppard turned his head, her movement noticed in his peripheral vision. His eyes widened as she attacked him, striving to subdue. But Sheppard was wily and not in command for nothing.

He dodged her blow swiftly, expertly dealing his own blow. His previous weapons and stunner were forgotten. Althea stomped toward him, forcing him to back away from the balcony, the battle behind them background noise. She slit her eyes aggressively, eyeing for any openings. Although a little part of her felt guilty fighting with a man whom she relied on to save them from the Genii, more of her wanted him subdued so they could escape.

She made the first move, pressed for time. She would need to bring him down before Warrior or Lynex got hurt or stunned. Sheppard leapt back and made a swipe, hand curled into a fist. She went with it, feinting a dodge right, ducking the swipe and shifting her weight back to the left. Sheppard replied in kind, his own muscles cording as he ducked and weaved. Not willing to overbalance herself, she pulled herself back up into a defensive crouch. She dropped, one hand behind her, supporting her weight as she delivered a solid kick to his shin. Sheppard rocked with the blow, giving a low grunt of pain.

Althea lashed out with her right hand, so concentrated on the final blow that she didn't see his knee coming up until it made contact, slamming into the front of her left thigh hard enough to send shock pulses of agony through her body. Althea was shoved back. She stumbled to her feet, favoring her injury. Sheppard moved back as well, limping slightly from the kick.

She stood in defense, ready for his next lunge. Warily, they watched each other, gazes locked, the snarls and cries from the background distant and unimportant. Each was coated with sweat, the hair above the forehead slick with it. He breathed slow and heavy, hers quick and light. She circled, just a little ways from the main mêlée. They were alone on a platform, just in front of the congested balcony.

She fought with her imagination, her quickness due to her small size. Without voicing a single sound, Althea sprung at him, aiming low. Though Sheppard anticipated her attack, he underestimated her swiftness. The young woman fell upon him, growling deep within her throat, striving to knock him out enough so she could use him. They met with a tangle of limps, their breathing harsh with exertion. She was like smoke, darting and striking again and again. Sheppard grunted again, trying to roll away.

John Sheppard had fought many hand-to-hand combats before, but none like this. It was like fighting a Wraith—no, more like a Wraith made out of smoke. He just couldn't seem to touch her. She danced and whirled, striking him in numerous places. None of them seemed aimed to kill. He was baffled, crazily thankful for Teyla's combat lessons or Ronon's advice. He didn't want to hurt her but if this kept up he would be forced to do what he must.

With a lucky jab of his arm, he hit her hard across the face. Althea shook her head, hardly pausing, feeling the humming warmth spread to the area. When she turned her attention back to Sheppard, her eyes widened for a split second.

_ Shhiiiiickk!_

With a cry of pain, the young woman rolled away from him. A knife. Luckily, it wasn't a stab, but more of a slicing cut. She bared her teeth against the burning fire on her shoulder. Eyes glittering darkly, Sheppard was back on his feet. He snapped something at her, voice thick with breathlessness. His hair stuck out in all directions as he tried to speak to her in calm tones.

Althea champed with frustration. She couldn't understand him, nor did want to. She felt her patience being overridden by the overwhelming urge to be off this goddamn City. She would do anything to return back to her Hive. She now felt the panic clamoring to be let out, that itching in the blood that made her ignore Sheppard's stalling attempts.

He caught the steely glint in her eye just before she sprung at him. She had to stumble back to avoid another defensive swipe of the knife. The wound on her shoulder began to bleed, the long shallow rent blazing hot with pain. She took another step and realized too late she had reached the edge of the platform. So determined was she that she forgot to pay attention to her surroundings in the nick of time. She jerked in surprise, feet slipping.

A scream sliced the air like a scythe as Althea lost her footing and fell backwards over the ledge. At the sound, the fighting lulled. Warrior turned, the steady gaze of his eyes marking her descend silently, solemnly, indescribable pain on his face. Lynex shoved his way through astonished humans to the balcony railing.

A primal wrenching wail of anguish came from his lips; it held an enormous aching grief; a keening of loss and death before a cloud of blue electricity overtook him.

.s.

Lynex sat and gazed. What was inside him was growing stronger, fiercer, clamoring to be let out; he forced control on it, for to be a true adult, one must first learn to master oneself. A real adult does not scream his pain, does not rail at the stars, at the evil of enemies or the frailty of friends. A real Wraith was strong. Even alone back in his cage in darkness he did not put his heart on display. So he sat in silence, breathing as he had seen Althea do when Morgar had upset her and when she was trying not to cry: one two, three in one, two, three out. It seemed to work for him, or almost work; he managed to hold the sound in, to stifle what he knew would be an eldritch howling grief, the cry of a wounded animal.

Strange though: inside he did not seem to be able to stop the tears that were running in a hot flow down his heart, tears whose origin he could not understand for surely within him there was only emptiness.

…

…

…

Critique welcomed.


	19. Catch Me

**A.N—**Well, this is it: the last chapter for 'Warrior.' Truthfully, I had no idea that I would be so successful with this story and I thank each and every one of you for all your wonderful reviews.

**A.N#2—**Thanks to the wonderful beta **Lady Valmar**.

**A.N#3**—Light editing 6/11/10.

.

"Catch Me"

.s.

There was no conscious thought as Althea plummeted to the dark waves below, only a strange stillness, a tepid blur that numbed and poisoned the mind. She didn't know how long she fell, but her body instinctually recognized the feeling of flight after all those years of being tossed by Morgar. She twisted like a cat in mid-air, subconsciously trying to land on her feet.

Then, she hit.

At first, Althea didn't know what to feel. A split second later, a terrible fire lanced up her feet.

Agony. A thousand needles, thin as fish bones, piercing and relentless.

Shock. Overwhelming incomprehension at the pain, the confusion, and the cold.

Her breath was knocked violently from her as her entire body entered. The sea's touch was like a hard clamp around the chest, squeezing out the air; it was only after she struggled to the surface, gasping for breath, that she realized how cold it was. By all the gods, this was a chill beyond any she had known before. Again she sought the surface, coughing, choking, her hair plastering over her face and wrapping around her neck. Cold fire burned her feet with such pain that she almost didn't want to move her legs at all.

A wave arose: not a big wave at all, quite a moderate swell of water, but it shoved her under. The thudding of her heart, the throb of her lungs and the fierce pain in her feet and legs broke her still lingering daze. She flailed her arms, spluttering as she came up. By accident she took in a huge mouthful of the water.

_ Uarrrugh!_

Immediately she gagged, her belly lurching at the overpowering taste. She went under. A numb feeling was spreading through her arms. She broke the surface and snatched a breath. She was growing tired. Her heart contracted; she was suddenly, sharply awake_. I won't die. I _refuse_ to die._ With a half-conscious mind, she chanted to herself over and over, a charm of survival: _I won't die, I won't die._

Struggling with the clamoring panic inside her, Althea began to swim toward the gray platform of Atlantis's base. It stretched out like a promising shoreline. To it, she swam, the cold shock seeping her warmth away. Around her legs, her leather was dragging her down. Her feet continued to throb, as if she had landed on embers.

_ Must keep going_, she thought, in a strange, apathetic daze. She didn't know how long she swam to Atlantis, nor did she remember crawling up the cold side. Her arms shook as she hoisted herself up. A strange drowsiness stole over her. Her burning limbs twitched, heavy as stone. Her eyes burned. Her feet and legs ached. The terrible taste of brine clung to her mouth, numbing her lips. Then her eyelids slid shut as she fell into a merciful darkness.

.s.

Althea stirred in the grey light of morning. Sky had grown pearly with a thin overcast of cloud. No longer calm, the gray-blue sea frothed, foaming along the hard platform of Atlantis's base. The rhythm of the waves woke her, their wash soaking her skin. She felt the cold sting of air briefly, then another wave. She opened her eyes to find herself lying pressed against the cold, unyielding surface. Another swell sluiced over her.

Choking, she rolled to her knees, pitched shakily to her feet. _Where am I?_ she thought. Her mind feeling poisoned. Weakly, the young woman shook herself and staggered. The salt air breathed against her wet skin, chilling her. She slid a wet draggle of hair from her eyes. The gummy, salt taste of her own tongue constricted her gorge.

"Water," she croaked out loud, still mightily confused at her surroundings. She shook her head, rubbing one side of her face with a salt-abraded hand. Never had she seen this part of Atlantis before—

Suddenly her whole world crashed. If the scene had been a movie, the film would have screeched off the roll. She remembered everything, from the day she came to Atlantis to the fateful night and her ruined escape attempt.

At first she could only stand, stock still, eyes wide open. Dripping water was forming a puddle by her feet. Her heart churned she clasped a hand to her mouth in utter shock. It was all she could do it muffle the scream of distress. Almost instinctually, she scuttled higher up the platform, hidden by a giant support rod. There, she huddled, feeling the panic forcing its way out, quickening her breath, pounding at her temples. She was so overwhelmed with fear that all she could muster were mewling sounds of distress. She felt so terrified that she was almost too afraid to breath. Behind every huge support could be a dozen Lanteans, ready to stick her in a cage.

"Oh no, no, no, no," she whispered, rocking. Hot tears dripped down her face unnoticed. She had failed! All her stupid fault! All her stupid, stupid fault! She had failed Lynex . . . Warrior . . . herself . . . but Warrior most of all. Her mind continued that vicious, unrelenting course as she huddled by herself, wet and cold.

She subsided after a while into a terrible, still silence, a withdrawal that spoke of a state of profound shook and disappointment. She could feel herself shaking. It was all confusion for a while. She could not tell if what she felt was grief or fury or merely cold recognition of failure. Her whole week's planning, her whole night's effort had been futile. For nothing. It hurt, most certainly.

_ Why didn't I listen to Sheppard?_ she thought miserably, shamefully remembering how she spurned his attempts to calm her. How she acted like an impatient half-grown! _If I had listened, maybe this wouldn't be so messed up!_ Guilt consumed her for a second. With guilt came exhaustion and despair. She sighed, feeling the bitter, blinding rage, anguished disappointment, and a chilling recognition of failure.

Homesickness threatened to crush her. _I was so stupid_, Althea thought bitterly, biting on a knuckle reflectively. _It was my own yearning for home that blinded me. Made me angry. Now look: I attacked their commanding officer_—a most heinous crime, she was sure—_so ruining any hope of negotiation with him. _

Even as she thought about him, the long cut along her shoulder smarted. She winced, looking it over. _Nothing too serious . . . my, what a fine array of reminders I shall have_, she thought dryly. Four cat claw marks on her left cheek, a bullet wound on her arm, a knife cut, Morgar's claw marks along her belly . . . not to mention previous scars she had received while learning how to fight and hunt.

The very thought of her past with Warrior's patient teachings brought another wave of guilt. She heaved a great sigh, painful against the crushing tightness of her breast. Her eyes closed from her internal exhaustion.

.s.

When she awoke, the seas had calmed. The sky had darkened to a slate colour. Shaking herself, Althea rose, wincing as her cramped muscles protested. Was it midday? Who could tell? Her belly growled, a rebuke to its lack of feed. Althea closed her eyes, remembering what Warrior told her: patience, combined with self-improvement, can be a sign of strength. Panic never is.

_ What good would it do?_ she thought almost sulkily. _I failed_.

_ This isn't your fault, my young fighter. You did not mean for any of this to happen._

Warrior's voice, throaty and smooth, echoed in her head. Althea gave a sharp intake of breath. She was almost afraid to look around, so close was his voice.

_ I will not hear of it. I will not speak of whose to blame and anything akin to that. You are strong, Little Dagger, but you must learn that not everything depends solely on the actions of a sole person._

The voice went away. Althea remained frozen, blood pounding in her ears. It was as if he was right there beside her. Almost guiltily, she lowered her head submissively. Then, she almost wanted to laugh in relief at her own foolishness. Of course it wasn't her fault! She gave a shaky laugh then, high and tinged with strain. How could she had possibly have known? It wasn't as if she meant for Sheppard to find them.

"He's always been right. I'm doing it again. It couldn't have been my fault. Nobody's fault." She felt indefinitely lighter, as if she had cut within herself and pulled out something rotting. It hurt, but it was a cleaner hurt. Suddenly, the situation didn't seem as bad. Guilt and shame were far heavier burdens than the physical discomforts.

It was with this in her mind did she assess her situation.

She was cold, wet, hungry, thirsty, and alone. She needed to get out of her clothes and find some food and water. But how? By now the upper Atlantis would be combing to search for her . . . _no, wait—why would they be? I fell. Maybe they think me dead . . .?_ Althea gingerly tested the bottoms of her feet as she walked to the platform's edge. The deep blue depths gurgled and frothed at her. She looked up, craning her head, looking for the place from where she fell.

_ How could I have survived it?_ she thought in awe, eyeing the high circle. She backed away, a little fearful of being in plain sight. It was such a great fall . . . She chewed her bottom lip. Best not question her fortune, sparse as it may be. If she was alive, it had to be for a reason.

Althea continued to hide in the shadows, filled with purpose and determination. Earlier thoughts of guilt and shame dwindled. Resolve took its place. She recognized Warrior's wisdom. It was silly to blame herself.

She settled on her haunches, her throat salty and swollen. "Think, Little Dagger, think," she croaked out loud. Her life-signature would probably be registered as human. If she could blend with a large group of people . . . then it could be as if she had might as well disappeared.

For once she was slightly glad her bio-sign did not come up as 'Wraith.'

But to do that, she would need to change her clothes. And appearance. She didn't want any to recognize her. _Why would they?_ she thought to herself as she continued gnawing on her lower lip. Teyla's people hardly even noticed her—testament to the guards and isolation. But Sheppard and his crew might. _I need to get out of these clothes and cut my hair_, she thought again, a trace regretfully.

Blend in with the people. A large group comes to the City everyday, she remembered, in a large room to share food and drink. Her belly gurgled. Hardly any guards, if any. _If I can slip in . . ._ With a pause, Althea proceeded to bite her hair off as well as use her hands to rip it to neck length. Wet strands landed in a clump by her feet.

She shook her head, unaccustomed to the lightness. Without a word, she began to slink deeper into Atlantis's base, her steps hardly making a sound.

.s.

Althea didn't know how long she skittered and dodged about the halls, always staying out of sight whenever she could. Apprehension never let go of her heart. Her hands felt cold; eyes, hot. Her ragged, torn hair clustered around her neck. Once or twice she almost ran into people, each time thankfully hiding in the nick of time. Either they were surprisingly stupid or extremely preoccupied to have so blithely missed her. Althea chose the latter of the two.

Luckily, she didn't run into any of the military-type. Thank the gods. She recognized her mistakes, and submitted to their superior advantage. It would be silly to fight them now. Best hide and skirt any attention. _'A rabbit huddles not merely from terror, but from a wisdom that knows how motion catches the eye'_ was a lesson she had been taught in childhood. Before she didn't understand it.

Now she understood.

The muted daylight still managed to fill the hallways near the open. Gooseflesh was still on her arms, reminding her of her drama of the night, morning and midday. Another reminder was her belly, who once again giving a gurgle of complaint. Althea wanted to ignore it, but the tantalizing smells of food enticed her. She was close, much closer than she had thought. Along with the scents of warm bread, richly flavored meats, and fresh picked fruits came the laughter and chatter of many, many humans.

Althea cocked a wary ear, eyes darting, drying hair saturated with salt. She peeked through a doorway, salivating at the thought of filling her belly and torn between blowing her cover. So many people! They didn't even notice her, each sharing food with one another, their faces smiling and gracious. Their talk filled her ears. General excitement hung in the air, tingling in the veins.

She continued to watch, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight. How easily they shared their food. She watched an old woman bend down to give a sliver of meat to a child, who rushed away with it to give it to a young woman—it's bearer, Althea guessed. How fascinating! Her curiosity was sparked. Though her memories would always remind her of her hard dealings with humans, she hardly had the heart to hate them. How could she hate something that only responded with its nature? She fought Sheppard first—she could not harbor ill will to him for defending himself.

High-ranking Wraith have first dibs on humans, selecting the strongest and most-willed humans for their own personal stores. Hunters get third pick according to their rank after the females. Lastly come the adolescents, who fight each other for the 'scraps'. It is the Wraith way of weeding out the weak. Those too weak to fight for their share of the humans starve. Those strong enough look on and learn.

Even then it is a fearsome battle. Friends fight friends for their own choice of humans, punching and hitting each other to procure their food. Althea once had watched a group of adolescents fight over a culling's products. She was surprised none had died, such was the ferocity of their strength.

And now, utterly at peace with each other, these humans were sharing. Such a strange and fascinating notion! _This was probably one of the humans' best traits_, she thought to herself before steeling her strength. She took a deep breath, shook her strangely light head, closed her eyes briefly, and entered the throng.

She was immediately surrounded on all sides by jostling, talking humans. Althea gulped down her distaste for close contact. People on all sides continued to talk and share food. Food . . . Althea's stomach rumbled again. A woman heard it and turned her head to Althea, eyes smiling. For a second, Althea froze, unsure of what to do. She was still debating on walking away or staying when the woman asked a question.

_ Oh great._

She pasted a smile, not exactly knowing what else to do. She nodded a trifle foolishly.

"Yes, hungry," was all she could stumble through. At least, she hoped that was what the woman was asking in the first place.

The woman smiled politely again, choosing not to comment on her strange accent, raw rent on her shoulder, or strained appearance. Althea followed her gaze to her ragged hair and wet clothes and attempted to give a sheepish smile. She didn't know what words to use so she stuck with her slightly foolish grin. Once again, her fortune held.

The woman exchanged brief words with a child, motioning to Althea and then to the table of food. Althea watched, pretending to be immersed in thought but actually wary of her surroundings.

Guards? Not that she could see. Lantean-folk that could recognize her? Once or twice she thought she saw Teyla in the throng, but it was only a half-glimpse. She thought she saw the Queen slip by, but then again it was out of the corner of her eye_. Stop it_, Althea thought firmly, trying to calm her raw nerves. _Keep this up and you'll work yourself into a panic. Just get some food, water . . . clothes . . ._

The child had returned with a great plate of steaming meat and a hunk of bread. Green fruits that still looked like it had dew on them glistened besides the bread. To Althea nothing had ever looked so good. Her gorge suddenly felt as small as a pinhole. She had difficulty swallowing. She licked her salty lips.

"Th . . . thank you," she said, her voice low and guttural compared to the woman's laughing voice. The woman made a curious gesture with her head and said something Althea couldn't understand. A spark of unease fluttered in her belly, but Althea once again reverted to her hesitant smile, her only answer. The woman didn't seem to notice Althea's lack of understanding, for she sent the child off again. _Please, please, not Teyla or the Queen_, Althea thought.

But the food in her hands were more binding than any fear. She had no choice but sit at a table amongst so many other humans. The general chatter astounded and rung in her ears. None of it seemed hostile or aggressive, though, and Althea's nerves soothed just a bit. Having grown up amongst Wraith, at the least nuance of anger it was the wisest course of action to move out of the side. One-on-one combats amongst younger Wraith were not unheard of since their rankings were very insecure, though older Wraith thought it was beneath them to fight so wantonly.

It was almost physical agony to eat at a polite pace. Althea wanted nothing more than to wolf it all down, to disregard the human concept of manners. But she must not draw attention to herself. So, she ate and drank at a moderate pace, glancing around or giving the person next to her more elbow space.

She was almost done when the same child—a girl, her hair as fair as flax—came up to her. Althea immediately eyed the child, tensing a little, as if wary for any hidden tricks. But in the child's hands was not a weapon, but a bunch of clothes made from a strange fabric. Althea's gaze softened as she murmured the words for gratitude. The child brightened and babbled something to her, too fast for the young Wraith-woman to follow. The only word she could discern was 'change.'

Althea gave a growl of consent, her voice low and throaty. "Yes."

Before she could react, the child grasped her hand with the uninhibited gestures of a child and led her away from the throng of people. Althea grudgingly softened at the child, liking the way the gray light from the windows glinted off the flaxen hair. _So bold_, she couldn't help muse. _She would have to learn the proper way to treat her elders. _

The she-child didn't lead her far, just across the gathering. The two of them came to a room. The girl reached up on tip-toes to touch the panel to allow them entrance. She tugged Althea's hand to enter, for the young woman had grown cautious again. Was this a trick? _No, I don't think so_, she thought as the door open to show three elderly woman.

Althea was torn between flight or staying when the women dragged her in, making clucking sounds with their tongues as they noticed her wet outfit. The child piped something to them, pointing to the clothes in Althea's arms. One of them spoke to the confused young woman, and when she only got a bemused silence, the woman led her to a smaller room.

The other women chatted with the child. Althea thought how interesting to listen to so many odd chirps and strangely inflected syllables, to that flowing speech. The Common tongue. At one time Althea desperately wanted to learn how to speak it. Now all what she wanted to do was go back home and speak Wraith for a long time.

With efficient, brisk gestures, the elderly woman began to help a hesitant Althea out of her sodden clothes. By now, Althea was only assuming what was asked of her, saving herself behind a polite, if distant, smile.

.s.

The change was unbelievable. _I never would have thought to have pulled this off_, Althea thought with pleasure when she looked at herself through the thing Beckett had named 'a mirror.' With her rough-cut short hair ending at the base of her neck and now these rather humble clothes, she looked as if she could have passed for member of Teyla's people.

She gave another toothy grin with satisfaction. The woman who aided her misinterpreted her smile for one of thanks. Little did she know Althea was congratulating herself on meeting her objectives so quickly and so well.

_ They are a little scratchy_, she thought when she was led back by the child. _A very strange feel_. What she wearing was a light wool shirt, muted green for colour. It was a little big for her, for she had to roll up the sleeves. She wore darkly tanned pants now, unfamiliar but not at all uncomfortable, though she had to get used to the lack of 'freedom' she had before. She, however, refused the shoes that was offered to her. Shoes would make noise. She would need silence.

She was still getting used to her clothes when she almost ran into the one person she dreaded: Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart thumped painfully between her ribs. His back was turned, his head sweeping slowly as he surveyed the crowd. But his messy hair and casual posture marked him out as the ranking second-in-command. He wore the standard Atlantis jacket, his hands resting easily on his hips.

The child sensed the resistance from Althea, and tugged harder, still trying to get back to the table. Althea couldn't protest, instantly holding her head down as Sheppard casually shifted a little to let them pass, as if lost in thought and not really paying attention to the woman shielding her face with a curtain of ragged hair.

Althea felt like she was walking on eggshells. She felt the fear causing gooseflesh to ripple along her arms as she continued, dreading to have his long-fingered and vice-like grasp on her shoulder to apprehend her. But as the child blithely continued, Althea allowed herself a breath of relief. To have had skirted so nimbly a dangerous ground was beyond her.

_ Too bad our choices make us enemies_, Althea thought, pausing ever-so-slightly. He was a good fighter. He could have helped teach her some human fighting moves. But she would never have that chance—she ruined that chance last night when she spurned his attempts and attacked. Althea flushed a little when she remembered her embarrassing fall. She should have paid more attention to her surroundings. She had acted like a half-grown still in white clothing; she had been too confident. His casual appearance hid his ferocious side—he could fight like an animal when cornered.

Althea turned slightly around, eyeing Sheppard aslant. She didn't know why she did. She couldn't help it. Perhaps curiosity to look upon the one who beat her spurred her. Later she would look back and wonder what the hell was running in her mind. Stupid curiosity.

She looked at him from behind ragged hair and realized it was a mistake. A very big mistake. Sheppard's gaze languidly rested on her, went away, and immediately zoomed straight back at her. Althea could only look back, transfixed, as she saw his eyes widen with surprise, eyebrows shooting into his crop of messy hair. His stance stiffened.

In a flash his lips thinned into a hard line. His look hardened and grew cold, sinister storm clouds building behind his gaze. Before their dark power Althea wanted to crouch submissively, as she would have done before an angry high-ranking Wraith, for such was his anger. The words '_forgive me_' trembled on her lips as they continued to stare at each other. She couldn't look away. She felt like a rabbit torn between the ancient dilemma: to run or to remain motionless.

Her decision was suddenly made clear when Sheppard suddenly started walking toward her. Without hesitation and as limber as a weasel she darted deeper into the thick crowd of Teyla's people. They hardly paid any attention to her, for her motion was soft and flexible, moving in a way that made it as if she was just looking for someone.

Somewhere behind her, Sheppard tried to follow her, half-murmuring apologies as he shifted through them, striving to get to the girl he was so _sure_ was dead.

Althea was very good at hiding her trail from people. Such games had been the hide and seek of her childhood. She darted and weaved, never giving any the impression that she was being chased. _Why doesn't he call for reinforcements?_ she thought during a moment of rest, hiding behind a rather large man. She didn't see him.

_ He doesn't want to panic these people_, a cool logical voice within her replied. _He can't tell them a psycho Wraith-woman was amongst them. That would ruin the festive mood and drive people to panic._ She skittered around him, gently moving between a line of people. She crouched lower, thankful of her shorter height. Somewhere, she could barely see a head of brown, tousled hair pace back and forth. Despite her beating heart and quick breath, she gave a small smile. Not all strengths came from merely fighting.

Althea used the huge gathering of people, blending in with her subtle wool shirt and cropped hair. However, she noticed the number was smaller than before, that people in ones and twos were leaving the hall. _Why?_ Her stomach dropped as she realized that these people were the physical representation of the time. _They're leaving, heading toward the Ring. I need to find Warrior and Lynex—and run with them!_

Time seemed so precious that she almost didn't know what to do first. After a low growl of teeth-grinding, eye-watering determination, Althea wedged herself between two people and made her way to the entrance. She did not run, desperate for the least amount of attention. Besides, Sheppard was too busy looking for her in the throng . . . or did he know she wanted to find the Wraith?

She had the perfect opportunity to escape: why would she risk everything to save the imprisoned Wraith? Sheppard had called her a 'worshipper' . . . _he probably thinks I merely worship them to save my own hide_, Althea thought, almost giddy with tension and roguishness. _That I would abandon them when it suited me. _

Ha.

.s.

There was definitely less activity the farther she went from the hall and less near the cages. Her short hair swung around her neck she skirted about, paranoid for Sheppard or even the dreaded Ronon. She didn't know how long she would have before Sheppard realized she wasn't with the people or tell the Queen of her appearance. Twice she was so sure a Lantean or two saw her—but each time they let her pass, their eyes blank and polite. With Sheppard her disguise meant nothing; she felt a little twinge of irritation. But to them, it was as if she was a guest.

Ah, let the wolf tread freely amongst the sheep!

Althea gave a sharp intake of breath as she bolted behind a bubbling statue. The clomps of the two Lanteans faded as they continued walking, not realizing that a young woman had been just two meters away. Althea dared not let a breath of relief escape her before resuming her fast pace. Time, time. If only she had more time.

She crouched just outside the doorway, eyes bright and alert. The scratchy feel of her wool shirt made her want to scratch. She shook her short hair out of her eyes irritably: there would be no room for mistakes now. She was flying blind here; she didn't have eleven days to plan her new escape, just hours. She didn't know how many guards there were, or what she would do after she freed them—if she freed them . . .

_ Oh just shut up and get on with it_, Althea thought.

Althea made a single beeline to the cage; she didn't care for the startle grunts of the human guards. All what she wanted now was to open the cage. She twitched her body to the left, ducking a wild shot from a stunner. It missed. She dove for the panel, touching it with an open palm. It took less than five seconds, but in that time there was a small commotion.

Althea turned around to find herself keeling backwards from a rock-hard fist. Pain exploded and she fell, shocked by the violence. Cries and shouts rung in her ears as something exploded out of the cage, dodging hastily fired shots. The stunners were in too close of a range, and the Wraith moved far too quickly. Althea heaved herself to her feet but stayed in the background. Lynex could take care of himself. Her eyes watered from the blow, the area hot to the touch and tingling.

It was over quickly; the three guards were either knocked out or stunned; the young Wraith's clever hands turned the stunners upon their masters. Althea snuffled, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. The noise caused the Wraith to spin, a startled hiss escaping from between his teeth. An arm whipped out.

Althea's eyes widened; she tried to cry out, to identify herself, but before her lips were even open, she was hurled against the cage wall. The outstretched hand had caught her full in the face. With a cry, she was whacked against it. Her head hit it, hard. A rumbling growl snapped her out of her pain. She struggled to get back on her feet.

"Ouch! Damn it, Lynex! If you wanted to stay in your cage, just tell me next time!"

At the very first word Lynex froze, eyes wide with shock. His pupils were dilated to the max. He didn't speak, but continued to stare at her as if she had three heads. Althea eyed him as she massaged her brow.

"You know, it's bad enough with the Lanteans going after me," she scolded yet failing to find the angry tone.

How still he was as he stood there, how quietly astonished.

_ "It really is you,"_ he said.

"You're damned right it's me. Try to nearly kill me, huh! Talk about gratitude!"

_ "You're—you're alive,"_ he said.

Althea grunted agreement, remembering that they were still pressed for time. She brushed past a still bemused Wraith, picking up a clumsy stunner. She'd prefer a pistol-gun, but the rifle would do. When she got up again, she found herself looking straight into Lynex's face. His eyes where the darkest green the fluid—like light through deep water.

_ "What did you do with your hair?"_ he growled with horrified amusement, reaching down to rub several strands of ragged hair between his finger-tips. _"And your clothes . . ."_

"Long story, and when we have time, I'll tell you everything. Now, we need to get to Warrior's cage—don't have time, you know? We need to follow a group of humans through the Ring and I don't know how long it's going to take—"

_ "I thought you were dead,"_ Lynex growled, scything through Althea's babbling with a low voice. His warm, strong gaze stilled her enough for her to shut up. Any thoughts of leaving now didn't seem as important as Lynex thrummed down to her.

"I—I—"

Words didn't seem right. They, in fact, seemed out of place. Althea didn't know what to say or even feel, not exactly wanting the sensation of warmth spreading across her body from end to end.

But in the end, it was Lynex who said, _"Let's find the Leader and leave this City once and for all."_

Althea couldn't agree more.

.s.

It was déjà-vu. It was as if the were reliving the first failed escape attempt. They retraced their steps from the night before, always mindful for the human guards or watchful eyes. Althea was constantly worrying about reinforcements or if the guards back at Lynex's prison managed to contact any others. But then again, the adolescent Wraith had been extremely efficient. Surely none had the chance . . .?

"This way," Althea said, pointing down a passageway. Lynex narrowed his eyes and followed after her small form, shifting the clumsy Wraith stunner under his arm. His leather creaked and his trench-coat garment swished as it dragged. To Althea the sounds were like music. A Lantean. A pause; a half-stifled breath. Two pairs of eyes watched as the ignorant creature walked down another corridor.

They crouched without saying anything for a while. Althea felt safe. Protected. The escape and the threat of capture seemed less vivid and threatening when they were close like this. That sense of protection was hard to define and she didn't try, although much later she would discover the source of its strength: she was near the arms of a male who would die for her with no hesitation at all. It was a fact she simply knew: it was in the scent that came from his skin, something utterly primitive that her own glands could respond to.

_ "Now."_

The two got up from their crouch and continued their course. For a time Althea thought that they would manage to make it unscathed, but just then luck would run out. The two companions ran smack dab into a small party of Lanteans—military class, four of them. Sheppard was leading them, weapon strapped easily to his leg and jacket open to show a black shirt underneath. He froze when he saw Althea and Lynex, eyes wide. Already he was tensing for battle, instinctually going into a crouch.

_ "I got this, Little Dagger! Get the Leader,"_ Lynex cried as he, without seeing if Althea would obey him, begin to shoot the humans with the stunner. Their cries of surprise and barks of commands mingled with Lynex's snarls filled Althea's ears, but she obeyed her tall, wiry companion. She pitched to a sprint, leaving Lynex behind.

Lynex shifted his body back and forth, growling deeply when several bullets pierced his flesh. He saw Althea run down the hall out of the corner of his eye. He did not pause, however. He did not relent for a second, coolly using his advantage of surprise and position to incapacitate them unconscious. He was no wild-shooter; despite the bullets riddling themselves within his arm and shoulders, he managed to lay all but one low. Blood beaded down his leather. Strands of white hair were dyed red.

All but one remained.

"Give it up, Wraith—you've got nowhere to run!" said Sheppard behind a pillar. It was his bullets who found their mark the most. Lynex bared his teeth, feeling the wounds close as his body healed itself.

_ "Never, human. I will not rest till I am off this City!"_

"What? With such great room service? Atlantis has probably the best in the galaxy, you know?" quipped the human with provoking bravery. The harsh smell of gunpowder and smoke stung Lynex's nose. His eyes watered at the metallic scent. None of the human's words made sense. His patience was growing short fast.

_ "All we want is to leave this place."_

"You know we won't allow it, Wraith—oh, and you do have names, right? That girl with you has a name—you seriously didn't raise her, did you?"

The human must be stalling for time, waiting for reinforcements. Lynex bristled at the human's casual mention of Little Dagger and her name. He still hadn't forgotten when Little Dagger told him her name. He had been torn with jealousy. Even now as he growled, trying to look for the best angle to stun the human, a spark of it bit him.

"Well, did I fail to mention to you that you look like a Sam? Since you're going to be staying here for a while—"

_ "I have no intention of remaining on this damn City,"_ snarled Lynex. _"And I do not have the slightest intention in providing you my name!"_

"You're stubborn, I'll give you that."

A growl. Lynex tensed.

A reckless rush. The swiftness of the attack caught Sheppard off guard, but managed four new bullets into Lynex's thigh and leg. Lynex hardly paused, pressing the trigger and enveloping the man in blue. Sheppard gave a strangled grunt of pain, a strained expression on his face. He collapsed on the floor, passing out.

Anger burned within Lynex as he stood over his enemy. Finally! He would have his revenge!

Lynex knelt by the fallen warrior, trembling hand clenched in a fist. This would be instant: a simple hard thrust to the head and the fragile skull of the human would be crushed. Easy, if not bloody: quick. Fury arose in him, nearly overwhelming the discipline he had learned to impose upon himself. The enemy was only one. This wretch had nearly stolen his dearest of friends, Little Dagger, his loyal shadow whom his deepest feelings were realized when he had thought her dead. This wicked creature had held him, the Leader, and Althea captive. And now he would die. How could it be otherwise?

They must get to safety. He must act swiftly, and go. Little Dagger had told him time was short; he trusted her. Lynex looked down at the fallen man's face, a strong, thin face marked by a stern jaw, a relaxed mouth in unconsciousness, long dark lashes and unkempt hair.

What was he waiting for? He was a Wraith, wasn't he? This should be as easy as slaughtering a goat or sheep, easier in fact, since the victim lay passive, offering his flesh for sacrifice. But Lynex's hand would not move. This human had the strength he himself possessed depth within: a fortitude to marvel at. Furious hatred and a reluctant admiration warred in Lynex's heart. For what he had done, this man deserved death. But Little Dagger wouldn't approve, despite all Lynex's good intentions. For some odd reason, she still managed to respect him despite all what he had done to her. Jealousy roiled in the pit of his soul, but Little Dagger's obvious respect toward the man swayed his reasoning. The last thing he wanted was to face her disappointment.

Lynex couldn't strike the final blow. Instead, with a terse growl, he rose slowly to his feet. He unclenched his fist and stalked away, leaving the human with his life.

.s.

Althea and Warrior both ran back towards the place where she left Lynex without hardly a word. Her cheek was bleeding, having been laid open by a cunningly thrown punch by a guard. Her whole side of her face smarted, but she took comfort at the thought of going home. For the first time since she walked into Atlantis Althea began to feel—not just hope, but truly feel—that they might carry the day.

How could they not? They were running the faster they had ever gone through the halls before and with the silent stealth of experienced hunters. Fear and exhilaration gave her wings of flight, her terror as sharp as pain.

A noise up ahead. Someone coming straight at them. Althea cast a look up at the stoic, silent Wraith besides her. The lithely-built Leader hardly seemed to have any fears or hesitations; he looked almost relaxed. _How does he do it?_ she thought, ruefully noting her own flushed, hectic face.

Without a single word Warrior motioned to stop, clenching a raised fist. She immediately made herself motionless, even to her breathing.

Lynex jogged into view, his tacky blood drying on his body. Beside her, Warrior didn't waste a second in growling, _"Good. Your plan, Little Dagger?"_

Wait—did he say her plan? Althea looked up at Warrior from her crouch, and knew from the first glance he wasn't joking. Lynex, breathing hard, and Warrior, eyes half-lidded, gazed down at the short-haired, humbly dressed human. Expectant. Proud.

"No more secrecy—we give it all out till we are near the Ring. We'll run through with the humans." Fierce pride and the feel of their admiration coursed throughout her body.

_ "It's the best we can do with these circumstances," _Warrior said, _"and it is a better plan than cutting your hair."_

Althea blushed, climbing to her feet. Warrior snorted, showing the same exasperated amusement at her hair and began to lead the pace at a good run. Lynex and Althea followed slightly behind him. Althea wanted to sigh with relief when she had seen Lynex emerging as the victor of the skirmish, but something nagged at her.

"Did you?"

He regarded her solemnly. _"I did not kill Sheppard,"_ he said, _"although I could have done."_

She felt a strange relief, closely followed by regret, confusion, and even some tender amusement as she saw the look on Lynex's face, where pride and jealously were both evident in those bright eyes, the thin line of the mouth.

In no time at all they were almost there. Althea could see the familiar halls and Lynex had submissively given Warrior the stunner and now whenever a human was in their way, Warrior efficiently shot them. He never missed. Althea's heart leapt every time. The sounds of the humans were mere halls away. Althea forced herself to go full-out, the unconscious signal that they were so close.

The three of them exploded through out of the corridor and into the great hall. In an icy calm Althea noticed that only a tiny bit of the humans remained. Like sands in an hourglass. _That would mean they are all at the Ring! _

At the first look of the Wraith a woman gave a bloodcurdling shriek of terror, abandoning her conversation with another to race to the portal. Milling panic ensued.

Warrior hardly gave a growl as he said, _"Stick together. Don't lose yourselves."_

Without a look back over his shoulder to see if Lynex or Althea would follow him, he began to run into the crowd. The humans screamed in breathless terror, running toward the Ring. Some tripped over themselves in their haste to distance themselves with the silent Wraith, their eyes wide and feverish. Warrior hardly gave them a second glance: his eyes were for the open Ring alone.

_ "Hurry!"_ Lynex hissed, racing after Warrior. This time, Althea didn't hang back and she closely followed him, terrified at loosing him or Warrior and remaining stuck on this City. The narrowness of the hallway to the room with the Ring forced panicking humans to run harder and faster or crouch with terror, waiting for the inevitable. Their mouths continue to open and close like fish when the Wraith passed by them safely in a dark flash of claws and white hair.

Desperation almost came off of them as a scent, their faces grim and taut with hope. Althea felt her flesh draw tight as she whizzed into the room. A clear coldness she would never see again in her life appeared before her sight. In it everything stood out and forward; never again would she see the three dimensions of reality so clearly defined. She possessed every color, every angle, ever distance. Fear departed. She felt the hunter's simple lust for certainty and oncoming consummation. Her pulse slowed. Her running became firm and natural. She drew in a deep breath. It seemed her lung would never fill completely.

The Ring was open, a giant pool of shimmering water. People continued to rush through it in a torrent in their desire to stay away from the Wraith. They didn't stop or check. Why the Lanteans didn't shoot Warrior or Lynex or herself as they, too, sprinted to the Ring tickled her.

With a cry, Althea leapt into the Ring, feeling the cold sensation grasp her body; it was as if submerging in a bowl of cold jelly. She knew somewhere behind her Warrior and Lynex were doing the same. Even before she passed through the Ring, Althea felt like collapsing on the floor in joy: they were off Atlantis.

.s.

Almost immediately Althea opened her eyes to a new world. Late afternoon. The sun hung in the blue lake of sky toward the west. People continued to stream away. _No time_, Althea thought giddily, the freedom as intoxicating as alcohol. _Have to make it to the trees_. Behind her, the two Wraith emerged, a comforting relief in a world of unknown.

Warrior hardly wasted time. He said, _"Get to the trees! The Atlantians will follow!"_

Althea felt her thudding heart and sweat beginning to cover her forehead. _How long had she had gone without the daily training and exercise?_ she thought in dismay. In the five weeks that passed she could have done this all day and never lost her wind. The trees looked far away. A strong wind blew her ragged hair along her neck, smelling of campfires and cooking. It woke her up for her to start running at breakneck speed after the Wraith. She gave it all out; it didn't hurt yet, but it would in less than a minute.

Behind her, the four figures emerged from the blue portal. With a shout of command, the one in charge led them after them. Althea heard them behind her. The wind whistled through her hair. Her breathing came out in short, rapid gasps, eyes wide. _Keep going, keep going!_ her mind yammered. They were so near the trees.

Althea's wheezing startled and perplexed her. A hot stitch was beginning to form in her side, that terrible pain that was forcing her to go slower. Warrior noticed her flagging strength and doubled back. Lynex stopped as well, noting with increasing distress the proximity of the humans. None carried stunners.

"Warrior . . . I can't make it," she wheezed, her side on fire.

_ "Get to the trees and hide,"_ Warrior said. _"I'll hold them off."_

Althea snapped her head up with horror, staring straight at the wiry Wraith. "No! You'll be killed!"

_ "Arguing with me?"_ Warrior said. _"Not this time!"_

With a powerful heave, he took her and threw her to Lynex. "_You will be a worthy mate to my son—I was fortunate to see you grow into such a fine hunter,"_ he said. Then he ran to meet the humans. Althea cried, not caring that she would be disobeying the Leader. Tears of distress blinded her. But as she pitched herself to follow, an arm as strong as steel wrapped around her.

_ "This way, Little Dagger,"_ Lynex said, dragging his struggling burden. They were now within the safety of the trees.

"Let me go, Lynex!" Althea sobbed, fighting against a vice-like embrace. "Lynex! Let go!He'll be kil—"

Gunshots. A terrible cry sliced through the air, high above even the gunshots. It was too awful to describe. It hung in the air, a banshee howl. Even years after the accident the villagers would recount the demon that had died that day.

The sound of it remained seared in her heart forever, so horrible was it to her ears. She felt as though lightning had seared her. The agony was uncontainable. She gave a strangled gasp, eyes shocked and wide. Her hands were like blocks of ice, a horrific wail stuck in her throat.

Then . . . silence.

The tall figure that had been her guiding hand since she could remember toppled to his side, dead. The one who taught her the language. The one who had taught her how to survive was dead. The one who had taught her how to be a Wraith. Dead. How he would cluck his tongue whenever she did well, or grow confused when she hugged him. When she cried. When she laughed. When she ran about the conifer woods. Dead.

Incomprehension warred within her soul. Pain crushed her. And all what she could do was watch, helplessly. Behind her, Lynex kept a firm but gentle hand around her wrist, lest she threw herself to Warrior's body and blow their cover.

.s.

They saw Sheppard jog further out for few feet, then stopped. His hands rested easily on his hips as he surveyed the band of trees. Nothing. He pursed his lips in dismay. They would by long gone by now. All for that Wraith's sacrifice.

"Well, now they know we exist," John Sheppard said. He didn't feel any pleasure killing the Wraith by his feet, only a hard sense of duty. He didn't feel proud of having killed, but no guilt, either. The breeze lifted his tousled hair.

"Do you want us to go after them, sir?" asked another.

John felt a bubble of irritation, but sighed again. Then, he gave a dry chuckle. Life for a life, eh? He glanced down at the dead Wraith, its pale hands curled, in the act of tearing huge tufts of grass even in death. He nudged it reflectively with a foot. What secrets it held, John would never uncover. All for the best, too—he didn't even want to know what sort of spell they put on that girl—so to speak—or even what they were going to do to her after. Probably feed on her, he thought ruefully. _Well, I did do everything I could . . . raised her, ha. What a story. And I thought I had seen everything. _

"No. We'll go back and tell Elizabeth our position . . . our position may very well have been compromised."

The men tensed, their jaws clenched. But they followed their commanding officer, without even a look back at the strewn form of their enemy.

.s.

Althea watched them go through now dry eyes, agony coursing through her as she watched Sheppard nudge Warrior's corpse. Certainly, her own heart was breaking. She felt as if a part of her was missing; as if something had plucked something out of the vibrant core of her being, leaving an empty hollow in its place.

Lynex did not cry out. His tone was not grand nor ringing, but quiet, respectful, intimate: it was as if he spoke to Warrior alone, directly, as son to father. Althea dimly heard him above her internal turmoil. She gazed out from the safety of the trees, watching with still dry eyes that the people were coming to take Warrior, her Warrior, away. Away to be torn or to be burned, how could she tell? Numb and achingly hurt, she stared uncomprehending at the still, unmoving figure in the grass.

Lynex walked by her, silent and light-footed. He paused, as if deep in thought. They would wait till activity settled down before dialing a world where they would have safe passage to the homeworld. With firm hands, he pulled her to her feet. Althea kept her head down until with his thumb and index finger cupped her chin. He forced her to look him in those un-human eyes with her own sea-gray ones.

An image was in her mind as she looked at Lynex, a memory of green eyes staring into hers with penetrating intelligence, a voice both soft and incisive, of features austere within self-discipline. _He is Warrior's son_, Althea thought dully. Whether she would remain at Lynex's side was for time to tell. Now, all she wanted was to grieve. And be comforted.

She felt such an overwhelming gratitude to be with him again that it almost took her breath away, that gratitude that came from the fact that he was by her. And yet, she should have known from the beginning that she was meant for him: she had experienced and witnessed everything—the pivotal point where he came adult, his near-starvation and the weakness he had shown. She knew more about him than any other. She knew his desires and ambitions, had fought besides him, and knew what was hidden beneath his calm, cool composure. She had seen his anger, sorrow stress, and love. Those things alone bound them closer than anything.

Lynex struggled to find the words to comfort his silent, shaking companion. He betrayed an awkward self-consciousness, caused by the struggle of his love to express itself and his physical inability to express it. He seemed as shy as a wild animal.

_ "Catch me,"_ he said, beginning to run. Althea unconsciously reached for him, missed, and began to run after him. Blood flowed through her veins, tracing the crack in her broken heart, making it whole, though leaving behind a scar.

…

…

…

_**-fin-**_


End file.
